


Down the Chimney Broad and Black

by HotMolasses



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Differnce, Anal Sex, And also a Christmas Elf, Blow Jobs, But Hannibal is in it so, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Hannibal's just like a thousand years old, I swear this is a cheerful Christmas story, M/M, Smut, There's Murder, Wendigo, Will is an adult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 54,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotMolasses/pseuds/HotMolasses
Summary: Will hasn't gotten a present for Christmas in a long time.  Forget believing in Santa; he hasn't gotten a gift from anyone at all since his mother died when he was very young, leaving his drunk father to raise him.  They don't even bother with a Christmas tree.  Christmas is nothing more to him than a chance to earn some extra cash selling trees at the lot in town.So when one night he makes a wish for his father to die, he doesn't think anything of it.  That is, until a terrifying monster clamors down the chimney, kills his father, and chases him out into a deadly blizzard, running for his life.  Then he wakes up in a strange town, with strange people, who walk with bells on their shoes and have pointed ears...





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

 

         Look out your window on a cold winter night, when the wind is howling as it whips around the corner of whatever structure you’re huddled inside for shelter, with nothing between you and the bitter cold of death but a narrow pane of glass, perhaps a curtain.  Little else, and suddenly civilization seems quite far away and you can very easily put yourself in the minds of ancient people, the ones who huddled around fragile flames, praying for the light to not go out.

         When you look out into the darkness, it isn’t hard at all to understand why they needed something to fight back the bitter cold of winter.  When the sun stayed in the sky for less time each day, when the fruits died and the animals became scarce, when death wasn’t a far off dream but a neighbor, near and close, ready to come the moment someone fell weak.  When the darkness crept ever closer and the cold ever deeper, those ancient people, in their desperation, created a festival of light.

         To celebrate what was beautiful and bright and warm.  To stave off the hunger and fear; they lit the yule logs, they lit the candles, and the darkness shrank back.  They searched out what was green and alive in the midst of the frozen snow and brought it into their homes, and feasted when feasting should not happen, when food should be scarce and preserved.  They sang and danced and made merry, all while the wind rattled outside of their widows, ever close, ever ready, to take whomever dared leave the brightness.

         But even now, in modern times, when the Christmas lights are turned off for the night and the songs have gone quiet, every one of us knows down to our bones that close on the heels of Christmas lurks the thing that the holiday was created to push away.  Near in the darkness, in the cold and the ice, it runs deeper than the merry-making, older than the songs, and though we may never utter the thought aloud, every one of us still knows that within the winter, there lives the evil.

 

Chapter 1

         Will swung the axe harder than was really necessary, the chunks of pine flying from the trunk and past his shoulder, landing in the snow behind him.  With one more swing the tree was toppling and he stepped out of the way, not caring much when the outer branches scraped along his face, leaving scratches on his cheek. 

         He set his axe down in the snow and picked up the small tree by its trunk. He started dragging it back towards the truck, a gust of wind whipping through the Christmas tree field to bite his cheeks where he’d let his scarf fall away. 

         He grunted as he hauled it up over his shoulders and onto the bed of the truck.  Several other Christmas trees were tossed up already by other workers, but the truck was nowhere near capacity and he knew he still had a long day of harvesting ahead of him.

         He trudged back out into the snow, sweat rolling down his back inside of his coat while his eyebrows froze, begrudging his miserable life with every step and swing of his axe.

         It was dark by the time he got home, because they worked until the last ray of light left the sky, and then tonight worked longer, because it was the last harvesting night of the year with Christmas only a week away.  He took his meager daily pay and shoved it into the hole in his bedroom wall under the windowsill the one hiding place he had left that his drunk father hadn’t found.

         “Boy, bring me a log, I’m freezing in here!”

         Will grunted and rose to his feet.  After having spent the entire day out in the bitter wind their small cabin seemed warm enough to him.  But he supposed it wouldn’t do him any good to let the fire go out, so he threw on his boots, not bothering to lace them, and trudged back out into the snow to the woodpile.

         He grabbed as many as he could carry and hauled them back inside, dumping the logs unceremoniously beside the fireplace.  He didn’t bother to look at his father while he threw two more on and stirred the embers with the poker, thinking about just how easy it would be to take it and smash it across his drunken father’s face.

         Instead he walked into their tiny kitchen and pulled out a jar of peanut butter and some bread.  There was nothing else to eat.  Tomorrow he’d be working in town, selling the trees, and he’d buy some meat on his way home, maybe some potatoes.

         Will had to leave the door to his room open to let the heat from the fire in, which meant he had to listen to his father’s hideous snoring as he slept in the armchair.  He pulled the blanket up over his head to try to drown it out, and listened instead to the wind as it rattled his window, lulling him to sleep.

        

* * *

         Will hopped from one foot to the other as he rubbed his hands together, trying to keep warm.  Only two customers had even set foot on the Christmas tree lot today.  It was Christmas Eve; by now anyone who wanted a tree had one.  It didn’t help that the sky was overcast and the wind was wicked. 

         Will saw the silhouette of a person step in through the gate to the lot and he headed over to help them before realizing who it was.  He froze for a second when he saw it was his father, but then pressed forward and tried to save face in front of his boss.

         “Hey, Dad.”

         “Will!  There you are.” his dad said, a relieved smile coming over his face.  For a moment Will felt himself starting to smile back, wondering why his dad was so happy to see him.  Then he said, “Quick, I need ten bucks.”

         Instantly Will’s face hardened. 

         “I can still smell the last ten dollars I gave you.  At least let it wear off before you ask me for more.”

         His father’s smile faded, but only slightly, which was why Will didn’t see the punch coming until it was too late.  It struck him straight across his nose, jerking his face to the side hard, making his neck crack.

         “You little shit.” his dad said, and then there was a second punch which knocked Will to the ground.  His boss and another employee both ran towards them, stopping Will’s dad from kneeling in the snow to land an third punch to his face.

         “Mr. Graham, get off my tree lot.” he heard his boss say.  He watched through dizzy eyes as his coworkers pushed his father back, who stumbled and was pushed easily because of his drunkenness. 

         “You ungrateful little shit!  I raised you!  Fed you, changed your diapers, and now when I need a little help you spit in my face!  Fine!  Stay out here!  Stay out here in the frozen cold!  See if I let you in the house later!”

         His voice grew fainter as his cowokers pushed him towards the gate and out into the street.  Will lay in the snow for a moment, waiting for the sky to stop spinning.  He didn’t know when the clouds had cleared, but he could see the stars clearly, little points of white in the blackness above him, and they were so peaceful he just…stared for a while.

         “And don’t come crying to me when you’re cold, either!  See if I care whether you freeze to death!” his dad shouted.

         “Yeah, well, I wish you’d die too.” Will said.  In that exact instant a streak of light blinked across the sky, so quickly he wasn’t even sure he saw it.  He’d seen plenty of shooting stars before in his life, but never one quite so bright.  It lingered in the vision of his eyes for a long time, until he heard feet crunching in the snow and felt hands wrapping around his arms.

         “Hey Will, you okay?” his boss asked, helping him sit up.  His head was spinning.  He felt wetness and reached his fingers up to his nose, seeing blood on his gloves when he pulled them away.

         “Yeah, I’m fine.” he said.  “Just a little headache.”

         They helped him to his feet and he wobbled a bit, then steadied himself.

         “Hey, why don’t you take off now?” his boss said.  “No one else is coming to buy trees.  You boys should both go home.”

         Will sighed.  He knew his boss was trying to be nice, but frankly home was the last place he wanted to be.

         “Yeah, thanks.” he said.  He took his pay and walked down Main Street, looking for anything else that was still open.  There was the bar, but he knew who was in there and didn’t want to see him ever again, if he could help it.  Then there was the diner.  He stepped in, the wind whipping the door nearly out of his hands, blowing in the snow behind him.

         He ordered a bowl of turkey soup and coffee, warming himself as much as he could before he’d have to face the walk home in the dark.  He stared down into the bowl, the steam rising up in wisps and circles, bringing just a bit of warmth to his cheeks.  He tipped the waitress extra and wished her a Merry Christmas before heading back out into the cold.

         His father was already home when he got there, and already asleep, bottle still in hand.  Will had no idea where he’d gotten it from.  The fire was dim and he didn’t want to risk waking his father to stoke it, so he tiptoed around him towards his bed.  He huddled under the blankets as he did every other night, absolutely nothing at all special about this one particular night that other people called Christmas Eve.


	2. Chapter 2

Will woke up to a great clatter and then a scream. 

         “Evil beast!  Get off me!” he heard his father cry, followed by a rumbling snarl so deep it shook the rafters of the cabin and made him freeze in place, half sitting up.  Then the sounds of a struggle, of wood splintering, and the crunch of bones from the crush of a powerful jaw.

         Torn between the fear that made him want to hide and the fear of not knowing, he crept towards the door of his room, peering out of the crack into the living room where his father always slept.  His body was on the floor, or what was left of it, the snout of an enormous… _thing_ buried in his torso.  Slurping sounds filled the room as it gobbled up Will’s father’s organs, and it was all he could do to stare.

         The thing was vaguely shaped like a man in some ways, having two arms and two legs, though both were too long.  It was naked, and fully black, so dark so that the light from the fire didn’t reflect off of it.  From its head rose two enormous antlers, as large as a reindeer’s, while it buried its face in his father’s gut, eating him.  He didn’t want to know what its face looked like, but the choice was taken from him as it turned and stared directly at him, features sharp and lifeless, eyes as white as snow with no pupils to them, drips of blood falling from its chin.

         Will could do nothing but stare back, frozen in place with utter terror.  With a snarl it opened its mouth, revealing two rows of impossibly sharp teeth, and roared.  Will was knocked off his feet as the entire floor shook.  He landed on his ass and watched as the monster curled on its haunches, ready to pounce.

         Then it turned its face suddenly to the ceiling, tilting its head as if it heard something.  It snarled at the air, turned towards the fireplace, and scrabbled up it, seemingly unaffected by the flames.  The only sound Will heard for a moment was the crackling of the fire and the dripping of his father’s blood onto the floor.  Then, faintly in the distance, almost too soft for him to hear, he heard sleigh bells. 

         The sound drove him into action for some reason; an unexplained need to be out of the house before they arrived.  He pulled on his warmest pants over his long johns and buttoned his coat, then wrapped himself in his hat and scarf and gloves.  He didn’t know how long the creature would stay away, but he had a strong feeling that the moment the bells faded it would be back.  He hurried out his front door with nothing else in his possession, eyes turned towards the sky, looking for the sound of the bells with a faint hope that they would come to rescue him.

         He heard the snarl again, and it was close while the bells were far off.  He briefly turned his head towards the sound and then ran from it, out into the snow, hoping he would be able to find a place to hide.  He looked down the road to town and knew it was too far for him to have any hope of getting there before the thing found him if he went that way.  So he turned towards the tree line and headed into the forest to go the short way.  The hill was too steep for a road this way but on foot it was a much shorter journey, and perhaps he would be able to find help before the thing found him.  Maybe it would be satisfied to return and finish eating his father, an easy meal compared to Will who was running. 

         He cursed his lousy thinking as he trudged through the snow, wondering why in hell he didn’t at _least_ bring his axe as a weapon.  Then again it was heavy and would have slowed him down, tired him out.  As he rushed through the trees towards the hill he heard the sound of the sleigh bells, seeming to come from everywhere at once, as if from the sky itself.  Whenever they fell silent he heard the roar of the monster, close on his heels. 

         He instinctively changed his direction whenever he heard it to move away from the terrifying sound, and it wasn’t long at all before he’d realized his mistake.  He should have found the hill that led to town five minutes ago at least, and when he looked up at the sky again he saw that the moon was behind him, which meant he was going in the wrong direction.

         He tried to turn around but heard the snarl again, and instead made a beeline for the deeper forest, the pine trees around him thickening as he went, growing taller and blocking out the sky. 

         Eventually he grew too tired to continue running and walked instead, still pressing onward, though he hadn’t heard the snarls in some time.  He realized he hadn’t heard the sleigh bells either, and wondered just how far he had gone into the forest.  The wind was picking up now, and though he could barely see he still saw the air thicken around him as snow began to fall.

         Will cursed and wrapped his scarf tighter around his face, leaving only his eyes exposed to the cold.  They felt it; even gentle breezes felt like stinging needles it was so cold.  The darkness grew thicker as the snow fell, until he could no longer see the sky, or hardly anything at all.  He bumped into tree trunk after tree trunk, fumbling in the blizzard, pressing onward in the vain hope that perhaps he was going in the right direction after all and the town would appear before him any moment.

         Will had never walked so long or so far in his life.  He knew the conditions would be messing with his mind, but he felt that surely it should be day by now.  Perhaps it was, and the darkness was merely caused by the snow blowing around him.  He was shivering now, uncontrollable tremors that made everything ache and hurt, and he reminded himself that was good.  If he could still feel then he was still plenty alive, so pain was good.

         His teeth rattled as he pressed onward, shutting his eyes now and then, blinking them open only when the wind seemed to die down.  He pushed on towards the light for several minutes before he made the realization that there _was_ a light.  It was odd; a dim red, like the ember of a fire, which didn’t make sense in this weather.  But it glowed none the less, and he pressed onward towards it, the glow steady even as the wind blew, unwavering, more like an electric lamp than a flame.

         As he neared it the wind seemed to calm a bit.  Finally it slowed to nothing, until the air about him was eerily still.  He could see the snow falling perfectly now, illuminated in a brilliant red by the light that he pressed onward towards, expecting it to grow larger, but it never did.

         He didn’t realize he was actually at it until he nearly stepped on it.  He paused, confused, as he looked down at the red glowing brilliance that lit up the snow around it.  It was attached to the snow-laden bough of a pine tree, and even in his dire state, his curiosity got the best of him.  He leaned down and squinted, unbelieving his eyes.

         A Christmas bulb?  One single bulb.  Red and tear-drop shaped, it glowed defiantly out into the darkness of the forest.  Will reached out his gloved hands and tried to find the wire.  If he could follow that to where it was plugged in, he could find shelter. 

         But there was nothing.  The bulb seemed unattached to anything at all save for the tree, almost as if it was _part_ of the tree.

         He was hallucinating, then.  Frostbite had probably already set in to his extremities and his brain was starting to lose function.  With disgust he dropped the glowing branch and turned away from it, pressing onward further into the forest, where there was nothing but snow-covered pine trees for as far as he could see.

         Then he saw another light.  Blue and brilliant, it lit up the snowflakes around it so that he could nearly see the entire tree it was attached to.  This one was a bit higher up, almost at his waist-level.  Not really making the decision with conscious thought Will stumbled towards it, the blue so soft and soothing that he was drawn to it. 

         When he was nearly there he realized he saw another light, further in the distance.  Green, this time.  He squinted and peered further, and realized that far in the distance, he could see.  The snow was falling, illuminated in patches here and there; a patch of yellow light, a sphere of orange, a cone of pink.  They were sporadic and sparsely placed, all far from each other, but even so it seemed to him that they grew denser to his right, and so to the right he went.

         Now and then a gust of wind would stir up the snow and blast him in the face, but for the most part now it was calm.  As Will walked the lights did indeed grow in frequency in number.  The first time he saw two upon the same tree an illogical spark of hope lit up his heart, as if that meant anything. 

         Shivering to his bones he pushed on, the lights growing more and more common, until entire trees were covered with them, fully decorated Christmas trees, brightly glowing against the darkness, lighting his way.  Among their branches he saw ornaments now; round baubles reflecting the lights, tear-drop shaped twists of red and gold, icicle-shaped silver drops dangling from the boughs.  He knew he was hallucinating fully at this point, and he decided it really wasn’t all that terrible a way to die.  They said freezing to death was very similar to falling asleep, and if the last thing he dreamed was of a beautiful Christmas forest, at least one moment of his life would have been worth it.

         When he fell face-first into the snow, he chose to use the last of his energy to roll onto his side so that he could see the lights, a rainbow of them now.  Fully decorated Christmas trees filled his vision, wrapped in ribbon and topped with shining stars, and just before he closed his eyes for the last time, Will Graham gave the first smile he had in over a decade.


	3. Chapter 3

The warmth of the fire against his face was the first thing Will became aware of.  He groaned and moved his limbs a bit, to feel that he was surrounded by warm blankets and a soft mattress beneath.  It was too comfortable to be his own bed, so a smile of relief crept over his face.  Someone in the town must have found him, and he was alive, and he wasn’t home.

         He heard whispering and tried to listen to the conversation.

         “He moved, I think he’s awake.”

         “No, his eyes are still closed.  That mean’s he’s asleep.”

         “Are you sure?  I think human children can fake being asleep.  That’s why only Santa can tell if they’re awake.”

         Santa?

         “But he’s not a child.  Is he?  He seems fully grown.”

         “I don’t know, it’s hard to tell these days.  Sometimes they stop believing as young as five years old.”

         There was a horrified gasp.  Then an actual voice.

         “Shut up Jimmy, that’s not true and you know it.”

         The voice was female, and stern, and was followed by the sound of a sturdy punch to an arm.

         “Ow! Beverly, cut it out!”

         “You’re scaring Brian.”

         The three voices continued to bicker off in the corner, still soft but arguing now.  Will wasn’t sure if he dared open his eyes.  He didn’t recognize any of them.

         But it wasn’t like he could pretend to be asleep forever.  So he carefully opened his eyes without moving anything else, hoping he’d get a good look at where he was before anyone noticed.

         The first thing he saw were wooden walls, made of planks rather than the logs of his cabin.  A house, then.  There was a window which showed only blackness, so either it was still night or was night again.  He had no way of knowing.  Over the window hung green pine garland entwined with red ribbon, with lovely red bows spaced evenly along the peaks.  Will’s eyes moved further around the room and saw a second window decorated in the same manner.  Then in the corner stood a _gorgeous_ Christmas tree, decorated like none Will had ever seen, not that he’d seen many.  Gold and silver beaded garland wrapped and intertwined in a perfect criss-crossing pattern, with red and gold glass ornaments dangling from just the right places, the firelight refracting through them to create colored shadows on the wall.

         Further down the wall was the fireplace, roaring with life and heat.  Will closed his eyes once more and savored the feeling, grateful to whomever these people were for rescuing him.  He was about to open them again when he heard the footsteps of three people coming towards him.  He felt their shadows as they leaned over him, curious themselves and yet not wanting to wake him, and he knew there was no point in faking it any longer.

         He opened his eyes to see three faces peering down at him.  The first thing that struck him was how _cheerful_ they all were, almost as if smiling was their most frequent expression.  They were also youthful; appearing a little older than Will and yet a little younger than him at the same time.  All three of them wore pointed green hats on their heads that should have looked comical, but somehow looked like they belonged.  Their cheeks were rosy pink and their eyes sparkled brightly, and it looked almost as if their ears were…pointed.  His mind must still have been partially dreaming from his horrific experience. 

         Will looked at each person, and in turn each of them looked back at him, unblinking and unabashed that they were staring.  The first was a white man with short blond hair, shaved along the sides and cropped neatly on top.  He had an almost jovial expression, as if he spent most of his time laughing.  In the middle was a lovely young Asian woman who must have been Beverly.  She had long, dark brown hair that fell over her shoulders as she leaned in to stare at Will.  Her eyes held much more scrutiny than the first face, almost as if she was suspicious of him.

         The last person looked a little more nervous than both, his dark curly hair cut a little more unruly than the first man, his eyebrows furrowed together in deep thought, as if Will was a puzzle he needed to figure out.

         The sound of a door opening made all three of them straighten.  Will turned his head to try to see, but their bodies blocked his view of whoever had entered.  He noticed, with a frown, that all three of them were dressed exactly the same, in some sort of green tunic and striped leggings. 

         “I can’t leave the three of you alone for five minutes without you causing mischief, can I?” came a thickly accented voice. 

         “We didn’t do anything, Hannibal!  We were only watching to see if he woke up, just like you asked!”

         “And?”

         There was silence as the three all stared at the newcomer.

         “And…he’s awake.” Beverly said, her voice a little too helpful.

         “Wonderful.  Now out with you, you scamps.”

         “Awww, but we want to talk to him!”

         “That’s not up to you, now is it?  You’ve done what I asked, and I am grateful for it.  Now please, leave me with my guest so I may tend to him before the decision is made.”

         “Fine.”

         “Okay.”  
         “Bossy.”

         The door opened and the three exited into what must have been another room.  While the door was still open he heard the outer door open, and the moment he didWill felt the blast of cold air.  He huddled further under the blankets, his body too easily going back into shivers.  The outer door slammed shut, cutting off the biting wind, and he turned his head to look at his new companion.

         He was dressed the same as the others, but held himself in a more elegant manner so that merely looking at him commanded respect.  He had a gorgeously chiseled face with high cheekbones, and it was far more serious than the others had been.  He had long, straight blonde hair that was perfectly combed despite the cap, the strands of it poking out just over his ears.

         In his hands he held a tray, which he set down upon a small round table between Will and the fireplace.  He turned to look at Will, the same spark in his eyes that the others had had, but lacking in the smile.  Will felt a bit nervous when his gaze fell upon him, and instinctually moved to sit up.

         That was when he realized that under the blankets, he was entirely naked.

         A hot blush sprang to his cheeks and he sank back down, keeping the covers up to his chin.

         “You were nearly dead when I found you lying in the snow.” Hannibal said, sitting in one of the chairs and turning over two teacups.  Will watched him pour hot, steaming tea with perfect skill, and his shivering body wanted it.

         “How long…how long has it been since you found me?” Will said, squeezing his eyes closed and open a few times, trying to make Hannibal’s strange clothes become normal; to make everything appear normal.

         “Several hours.  I had half expected you to not wake up.”

         He didn’t seem much concerned that Will had almost not woken up.  His face was impossible to read and his tone too even-keeled to be of much help.  He rose, holding one of the teacups in his hand, and walked towards the bed with an almost predatory gait.  Will instinctually backed away, which caused him to sit up, the blankets falling away to reveal his bare chest.

         “You still need to raise your body temperature.” Hannibal said, holding out the teacup to him.  Will reached out his hands and slowly took it, wrapping his frozen fingers around it gratefully, his body needing the warmth more than his brain told him to be careful.

         Hannibal returned to the chair and took the other cup in his hand, slowly bringing it to his lips for an elegant sip.

         Will brought it to his mouth and took a swallow.  The warmth spread down his throat and he closed his eyes, letting his head relax against the wall.

         “Thank you.” he said.

         “You’re welcome.”

         There was silence for a moment while Will drank, more greedily than he’d intended, the heat spreading down into his stomach and making his shivers subside once again.  Hannibal rose and he handed him the empty teacup, which he then promptly refilled.

         Will drank this one more slowly, letting the heat seep into his fingers as he held it.  He looked down at what he held and realized with astonishment that it must be an antique.  The porcelain was cracked in several places, the designs very clearly hand-painted, with ever so tiny differences in the sizes of the red drops that ringed the base.  Even the four Christmas trees that adorned the sides, painted to look exactly the same, had slight differences to them. 

         The handle was gilded in gold, as well as the rim, and while at first Will had just thought it to be gold paint, he realized it was _real_.  It hadn’t a chip anywhere, though there was a spot of tarnish on one place of the handle.

         “Might I ask what thoughts trouble your mind?” Hannibal asked.  Will tore his eyes away from the ornate cup and focused on his host.  He had several questions, none of which he wanted to ask for fear of sounding like a lunatic.  So he went with the obvious.

         “Where are my clothes?”

         “Hanging in the other room, near the fire to dry.”

         “Other room?”

         “Yes, the sitting room and kitchen.  This is my bedroom.”

         So Hannibal lived in as meager a house as he did; merely two rooms.  This was Hannibal’s bedroom.  Who put a Christmas tree up in their bedroom?

         “Fear not, I shall lend you one of my nightgowns so you can sleep.”

         He rose and walked over to a small dresser Will had failed to notice earlier.  Nightgown? He knew for certain then that he wasn’t in his own town.  Nobody here was normal.

         “Where am I?”

         “Such an important question.” Hannibal said, pulling a nightgown out of the dresser and holding it up.  “One that we shall discuss at length when you awaken.  But for now I suggest you sleep further, Will.”

         Will nodded, his mind still foggy, his body still cold.  Hannibal folded the nightgown neatly at the foot of the bed and walked towards the door.

         “Sleep as long as you need.  I will be in the other room if you should need anything.”

         Will nodded again, and Hannibal shut the door softly behind him.  Will reached for the nightgown and slipped it over his head, still unwilling to come out fully from under the blankets, because of how cold he felt.  He shimmied the nightgown down and lay his head back on the pillow, feeling strange, but warm and oddly, safe.

         That was until he realized he’d never once been asked his name, and yet Hannibal had called him Will.


	4. Chapter 4

         When Will awoke, it was still night.  Or was it night again?  He had no idea how long he’d slept.  It certainly felt like it could have been an entire day.  He was still in the strange house, and he briefly considered going straight back to sleep, but his need to urinate made itself known strongly when he shifted.

         He sat up, the cooler air of the room no longer feeling deathly cold to him.  The fire was still crackling brightly, which meant that Hannibal was still on the other side, tending to it.  He took another glance at the room, hoping that it would look somehow more normal—but the decadent Christmas adornments were still exactly as they had been.

         Well, weird or not, Hannibal had saved his life, and he supposed he should show a little more gratitude.  He rose, wincing as his bladder reminded him it was there, and stretched a bit.  He wiggled his fingers and toes, feeling the wood of the floor beneath his feet as he should.  Not a single digit was frostbitten, and he began to realize just how lucky he really was.

         The teapot and cups were still on the table, and he couldn’t help walking over to them to take a closer look.  He picked up the teacup again, eyes studying the beautiful craftsmanship.  It was almost mesmerizing, the delicate way every stroke and dot was painted to create four intricately detailed Christmas trees, each exactly the same and yet a little different.  The teapot was just as gorgeous, with only two Christmas trees, one painted on each side.  He didn’t dare touch it.

         He set the cup down and then walked towards the door.  He pulled it open to see exactly as Hannibal had described, a kitchen/sitting room, with counters on one side and a table to eat at the other.  There were kitchen utensils hanging from hooks on the wall and the counters were made of solid oak.  They were also absolutely spotless, and Will wondered if Hannibal had cleaned up, considering him to be company.

         In the corner, behind the table, was another Christmas tree.  This one was decorated even more elaborately than the one in the bedroom, and included strings of white electric lights casting rainbow shadows on the wall through the myriad of glass ornaments.

         On one of the chairs by the table Will spied his clothes, neatly folded and dry as a bone.

         “Ah, you are awake.  How are you feeling?” Hannibal said, sitting at the table with a book in his hand, looking perfectly comfortable, as if Will’s presence was entirely normal to him.

         Will licked his lips to wet them before he tried to speak.

         “Much better.  Though I need to use the restroom.”

         Hannibal gave a quick nod.

         “Of course, just through there.” he said, pointing to a door nestled in the wall behind the cabinets.  It was made of the same wooden planks as the wall and was only identifiable because of the old-fashioned latch and handle that gave it away.

         Will stepped in and used the toilet first, as that was a necessity.  But when he went to use the sink he started to notice just how old-fashioned everything in the room was.  The sink was oval-shaped and on a pedestal meant to look like a Roman column.  The faucet and knobs were gold, as was the handle and trim of the seat on the toilet. 

         There was a tub as opposed to a shower, and it sat on four clawed feet, also made of gold.  It looked like it was made of actual porcelain, with no faucet at all, but only a drain.  Even the mirror appeared exceedingly old, the frame an intricate woven golden design of holly boughs, complete with little berries in groups of three throughout.  His reflection was perfect however; the tarnish and spots Will associated with antique mirrors nowhere to be found.

         He dried his hands on a towel that was perhaps the softest he’d ever felt—this one adorned with a pattern of poinsettias—and he began to wonder just what was the deal with this man’s obsession with Christmas.

         Will re-entered the main room, and before he even had a chance to feel awkward, Hannibal was rising to his feet and offering his chair.

         “You must be famished.” he said. 

         Will’s stomach growled loudly, and he couldn’t argue.  Even if the man was crazy, he was giving him shelter and now providing him food.  It would be stupid, and rude, to refuse it.

         “Yes.” he said.

         “Please, sit while I make you something to eat.” Hannibal said, almost cheerfully.  Will did as instructed, taking the chair Hannibal had offered, as it was closer to the fire and further from the door.  He didn’t think he was in danger of freezing anymore, but he had little desire to feel any sort of cold air right now, and he doubted the thin nightgown he wore would give him much protection should the door open.

         As Hannibal busied himself pulling out pots and pans, Will was surprised at how at ease he felt in nothing more than a thin dress.  He didn’t even have any underwear on.  It was…weird, but not uncomfortable.  He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to remember the thought that had jarred him just before he fell asleep, but it eluded him.

         He watched as Hannibal pulled out a basket of eggs and began to crack them into a ceramic bowl. Breakfast food.  Was it early morning?

         “What time is it?” Will asked.

         “Oh, there’s a clock on the mantle.” Hannibal said.  Will tilted to look at it and saw that it said 5:15.  Was that am or pm?  Either would be pitch-black outside during this time of year.

         “Is it morning or night?” Will asked.

         Hannibal chuckled and glanced at the window.

         “Looks like night to me.”

         He pressed the striker on the stove and a flame burst to life as the pilot lit the gas.  He put the pan over it to warm and then began chopping vegetables; onions, peppers and a potato.  Will’s stomach growled louder at the sight of his favorite omelet ingredients.

         Hannibal was being dodgy about the time, but maybe he’d answer another, easier question.

         “Where am I?”

         “Ah, so it begins.” Hannibal said, picking up a wire whisk and beating the eggs in the bowl with a practiced and graceful motion.  “A much more important question, however, is _why_ are you here?” he said, as he set the bowl down and opened another cabinet.  From this he pulled a string of sausages, dried and spiced to last the winter without refrigeration, which was what made Will notice the utter lack of a refrigerator.  He frowned at that, then set his mind to Hannibal’s question.

         “I’m lost in a stranger’s house, in a strange town, without knowing how far from home I am or how long I’ve been here, you’ve carefully avoided answering every question I’ve asked, and then have the audacity to expect an answer from me?”

         Hannibal only gave a tiny smile as he began slicing the sausage, his fingers deft with a knife, chopping every ingredient into perfect and tiny cubes.  He picked it all up and sprinkled it into the bowl, then began whisking again.  Once he was satisfied he put down the whisk and lifted the bowl over the warmed pan, where he poured with perfect precision.  The omelet sizzled as it hit the pan, and Hannibal set the bowl down and adjusted the flame.

         “I’ve rescued you from certain death, taken you into my home, provided you a bed and a meal, and you don’t believe you owe me even one answer?” Hannibal retorted, never turning his eyes away from his task as he picked up a spatula and began slipping it under the edges of the omelet.

         Will’s eyebrows furrowed with annoyance.  He was not in the mood for games.  Though that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at playing them. 

         “A deal then.  An answer for an answer.  One at a time until we are both satisfied.”

         Hannibal didn’t reply at first, slipping the spatula under the omelet and skillfully flipping it so that it landed still in a perfect circle, as if he’d done it thousands of times.  The hint of a smile came to his lips and he turned to Will with sparkling eyes.

         “The delight of your wit overshadows the blight of your rudeness.  I accept.”

         Hannibal turned to the pan and expertly folded the omelet, where he placed it on a plate that matched the tea set.  He brought it over to Will and set it in front of him, putting out a knife and fork beside the plate.  He then put a tea kettle on and sat at the seat across from Will.

         “You’re not going to have anything?” Will asked.

         “I have recently eaten.” Hannibal replied.  “Now for my question…”

         “I get to go first.” Will said, picking up his knife and fork and cutting into the omelet.  His stomach growled and he tried to eat slowly, but the moment the flavor of the omelet hit his tongue, he began to gorge. It was _delicious_ , as if it had been spiced with a hundred flavors, though Will couldn’t recall Hannibal having added any.

         “You already had your question.  I shall repeat my answer.  No, I am not going to eat with you right now, as I have already eaten.”

         Will shut his eyes and sighed.  So it was going to be like that.  Fine. 

         He opened his eyes and shoved another bite of egg into his mouth.

         “Okay, fine.  Ask.”

         “Why are you here, Will?”

         He wasn’t about to divulge to a complete stranger that a monster had clawed its way down his chimney, eaten his father, and chased him into the forest.  So he started with a half-truth.

         “I was lost in the forest because of a blizzard.  I just kept going in a straight line, hoping to find civilization.  And I guess I did, or got close enough, because I’m guessing you found me and brought me in.  So, thank you.”

         He saw Hannibal’s cheeks lift a bit in a small smile, though his eyes sparkled brightly with happiness.

         “You are very welcome, Will.”

         “Okay now my turn.  How do you know my name?”

         Hannibal nodded and turned his face, as if contemplating the answer to a complicated question.  Which didn’t make any sense, as that had been a very simple question.

         He nodded, as if coming to a decision, and said “Because I know it.”

         “That’s not an answer.”

         “It’s as much of an answer as you gave me regarding why you are here.”

         Will sighed heavily.  Hannibal was no idiot, that was for certain.

         “Fine.  I was being chased.  My father had just been killed and I was running for my life, happy?”

         Hannibal leaned in, the smile on his face now spreading wide, almost to his eyes.

         “Oh, very clever, Will.  Such a skillfully crafted response, utterly truthful and yet leaving out the detail you fear the most.”

         Having finished his food, Will set the silverware down and leaned in himself, meeting Hannibal’s eyes with his own harsh gaze, showing that he was not intimidated and not willing to back down.

         “You already know how I got here.” he said.  “You’re playing this game just to amuse yourself.”

         Hannibal sat back, his smile beaming, and folded his hands in his lap.

         “If that is so, then tell me the full truth.  Test your theory.”

         Will sat back then, a bit unsure of himself.  How in hell _would_ Hannibal know that, anyway?  And if he didn’t…well, it wasn’t as if Will cared what this man thought of him.  So he thought he was a lunatic.  Whatever.

         Will sighed.

         “A monster climbed down my chimney and ate my father.  Or his innards, and least.  I was terrified I was next, so I ran.”

         Hannibal gave a nod of approval.

         “Better.” he said.  “I will accept that as a full answer, and give you one in return.  The question as to where you are is…north.”

         Will nodded.  Now he was getting somewhere.

         “Okay.  How far north?”

         Hannibal smiled, though this smile was much more playful than the others.

         “As far north as one can go.”

         Will rolled his eyes.

         “Will you stop speaking in riddles?”

         “Yes, when you stop speaking in partial-truths.”

         “I told you the truth!”

         “My turn for a question.”

         Will sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair.  It was going to be a long day.  Or night.  Whichever.  Not that he had to be anywhere.

         “What did this monster look like?”

         Will saw that Hannibal…wasn’t laughing at him.  His tone wasn’t mocking.  His eyes were absolutely serious, and Will started to realize that he’d probably _seen_ it.  Of _course_.  His heart started to bloom with a little hope.

         “It was shaped like a man; two arms, two legs.  But it was black.  Not dark-skinned like a man, but pure black, as the night sky.  It was naked, and it had antlers like a reindeer coming from its head.  And teeth.  Really sharp, deadly teeth, and eyes that were so white they glowed.  Its face was…well, both majestic and hideous.  I only saw it for a second.”

         Throughout his description Hannibal leaned in further and further, until he was almost hunched over the table.  Will swore that his jaw shifted just a hair when he’d said the word ‘majestic’. 

         “An excellent description.” Hannibal said, his voice soft, almost as if Will had given him a compliment.

         He leaned back in his chair and nodded thoughtfully.

         “The answer to whether it is night is _yes_.  And that is the full truth.” Hannibal said.  “We are very far north, above the Arctic Circle.  It is winter, so there is no sun and will not be for months.”

         Will nodded, as that made _some_ sense…except there was no possible way he had walked that far!   

         He supposed the truth of that would become evident to him soon enough, as he spent the hours awake and saw whether the sun rose or not.

         “My turn.” Hannibal said, with too much severity in the sentence for it to sound playful at all.  He leaned back in again, his face deeply serious as he opened his mouth, so much so that Will felt that somehow, this one question mattered more than all the others.

         “Why didn’t the monster eat you as well?”

         Will clamped his jaw shut and his body stiffened.  He knew.  He knew and yet couldn’t bring himself to believe it, nevermind tell such an insane thing to a stranger.

         “I don’t know.”

         Hannibal’s gaze hardened, his eyes changing from sparkling brilliant to steely.  He leaned back and set his jaw.

         “Is that how this is going to go.”

         Will felt scolded, reprimanded as if he’d lied on the stand in court in front of a crowd that knew the truth.  Hannibal rose from his seat and took a step towards the door that led outside, stretching out his hand as he reached to open it.  Will clenched his jaw tighter and somehow knew he had but a few seconds to remedy his lie, or else…he didn’t know, but it was something terrible.

         “I heard sleigh bells!” he blurted, and Hannibal froze in his motion.  He lowered his hand and turned, his stare deathly still as it pierced straight into Will’s brain.

         “ _Who’s_ sleigh bells?”

         He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and knew better than to lie again.

         “Santa’s.  Santa Clause’s sleigh bells.”

         He heard the softest motion of Hannibal’s footsteps as he walked back to the chair and slowly sat down.  Will forced his eyes open, his face contorted in a painful expression as he had no idea how to feel about any of this.

         “You may have a chance after all.” Hannibal said.  “I’m beginning to feel that rescuing you was not a waste.”

         Will had no idea what to make of _that_ , and his mind was still busy reeling with the fact that Hannibal had taken his statement deathly seriously.

         “You don’t think I’m crazy.” Will said.

         “Hardly.”

         “That I heard Santa’s sleigh bells, and that they rescued me from an evil monster that came down the chimney and ate my father.”

         “A perfectly sane statement, as it is exactly what happened.” Hannibal said.  Will stared at him with disbelief, unable to keep his mouth from parting in shock.

         “The sooner you accept the truth of what you experienced and stop fighting your own mind, the safer you will be.”

         Will’s eyebrows furrowed together and he stared down at the table in front of him.  The weird clothes.  The ridiculous Christmas decorations.  The fact that it was always night…all of that could be faked.  It could be some elaborate scam…or he could be kidnapped by some weird cult…in which case, playing along was his best option.

         “Then the logical conclusion about where I am is…the North Pole.”

         Hannibal nodded, looking almost as if he wanted to smile, but his face was furrowed with too much concern to allow one through.

         “You are, indeed.”

         “So you’re…one of Santa’s elves?”

         “In some respect.” Hannibal said, and Will gritted his teeth as he was so _tired_ of his riddles and half-answers.  “Though the others you met, Jimmy, Brian, and Beverly, absolutely are.”

         “Which is how you know my name.” Will said.

         “Precisely.”

         Will frowned and stared at the table.  What the hell had he gotten himself into?

         “True belief will come to you shortly.  But our friends are returning to escort you to meet him, so I suggest you get dressed.”

         Will tried to keep his nerves down as he thought about meeting whatever leader led this insane cult, but also realized that was probably his best chance at asking for a way out of here and back to his town.  So he simply nodded and rose, picking up his clothes from the chair beside him before walking towards the bedroom to get changed.  At least it would make him feel a little more normal to have on underwear and pants.


	5. Chapter 5

The step back out into the cold wasn’t as brutal as Will had feared it would be.  For one, the wind was gone.  The air was so still that the few falling snowflakes barely fluttered on their way to the ground.  Now that he was properly bundled in dry clothes and his inner core was warm, it felt just like a normal night in the cold. 

         In front of them was a path that led from the front door through thick pine trees.  The ground was covered entirely in snow, path included, though it was tamped down and easy to walk on.  It was lit alone the edges by ropes of Christmas lights, all held up by curled shepherd’s hooks, each about a foot high. 

         Will followed Hannibal along it, his eyes wandering out into the darkness of the thick pine trees, though he wasn’t able to see far.  Then they crested a small hill, and the sight before him made him pause and hold his breath.

         A village of closely nestled houses, entirely lit by Christmas lights, and nothing else.  There were so many that it was almost as bright as day, except for the rainbowed shadows that fell upon everything.  The houses were all small and quaint, rooftops covered in snow, windows and doors and eaves all lined with strings and strings and strings of glowing lights.  Wherever a pine tree stood it also was wrapped in lights, and basically anything else as well; mailboxes, fence posts, street signs.

         Between the houses were footpaths, lit just like the one Hannibal was leading Will along, though among them were wider streets, where the ruts of sleighs could be seen in the snow.  There was also the unmistakable sound of sleigh bells, and as Will looked out into the brightly lit village, he saw several sleighs rushing by, each pulled by a reindeer or two.

         “Oh yay, they’re here, they’re here!”

         Will turned to see three people walking towards them from a path that intersected theirs, recognizing the giddiest one as Jimmy.  The trio all smiled brightly as they approached, and Hannibal stopped to wait for them.

         “So does he believe?” Bev asked, a cautious smile on her face.

         “Partially.  There is hope.” Hannibal replied.

         “Oh, yay!” Bev cried, clapping her hands with delight.  “I really hope he gets to stay, I like him!”

         “You barely know him.” Brian said, earning him an elbow in the ribs.  Will guessed that he enjoyed irritating the other two, though from a place of friendship. 

         “Let us be on our way, then.” Hannibal said, utterly unaffected by the cheer of his friends, his face as icily placid as it always was.

         The five began their journey to wherever they were going, and Will couldn’t help but stare at the houses as they passed, each one beautifully decorated for Christmas.  Not only did nearly everything available appear decorated in pine garland and red ribbons, but rails leading up steps were painted in actual red and white stripes, the walls of some houses made to look like ginger bread.  The number of snowmen that they passed was ridiculous.  Every house seemed to have at least one, some several.

         The holiday festive atmosphere of this town was ridiculously over the top.

         They passed several other people as they walked, all dressed in the same ridiculous manner as Hannibal and his friends.  Old-fashioned tunics, striped stockings, pointed shoes and caps; though not all of them wore green.  There was variation in the costumes, some pink, some with more bells, some with more sparkles…but they were _all_ hideously Christmassy.

         Not to mention the pointy ears.

         The people they passed all stared at Will, though were obviously trying not to.  He had no doubt that he stood out, in his brown jacket and scarf, blue jeans and black boots.  He shoved his hands in his pockets, they were starting to get cold despite his gloves.  It was then that he realized that none of the people were wearing coats.  Some wore scarves, but they seemed to be more for fashion than warmth.  Some wore gloves, but for the same reason, and the caps they wore didn’t seem warm at all, not even covering their ears.

         “I think we should stop at Alana’s.  She’s _really_ good at convincing.” Beverly said.

         “I am not opposed to that.” Hannibal replied.

         “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh _oh my gosh_!  Guys, did you _hear_ that?  Hannibal actually _likes_ this one!  He really wants to keep him!” Jimmy said.

         The three stopped in front of them to stare at Hannibal’s face, so that he and Will were forced to stop walking.  They leaned in, each peering with scrutinizing eyes.

         “He doesn’t look much different.”

         “That’s because he’s _Hannibal_.  But you heard what he just said.”

         “He just said he’s not opposed.  He didn’t say he was _excited_ to try.”

         “I think he doesn’t care either way.” Brian said. 

         “Observant as always.” Hannibal responded, and Will simply watched all of them silently, utterly confused and a little terrified at what kind of brainwashing all of these people were conditioned with.

         They arrived at a quaint little house in the middle of the village, one that did not stand out in any way, just as brightly decorated as the others.  There was a stable attached to the side of the house, large enough for one animal, and Will was slightly surprised (and more than a little relieved) to see it held a horse, and not a reindeer.

         Hannibal stepped up to the door and lifted the knocker, rapping three times.

         There was a squeak of hinges as the door was opened, and the distinct lack of the sound of locks being opened.  The opened door revealed a beautiful woman with long dark hair that flowed over her shoulders in a wave.  Within it were flecks of sparkles, as were on the red cap and tunic she wore, along with red striped stockings and pointy-toed shoes.

         She smiled brightly when she saw who it was.

         “Hannibal!  It’s always good to see you.” she said.  “What brings you over this early in the season?”

         Hannibal turned to face Will, who was practically caged in by the other three elves…no, _people_ , they were people who just _thought_ they were elves…stood behind him.

         Her eyes shifted to Will, and her expression changed from happiness to scrutiny.  Her gaze was so intense he had to fight the urge to squirm as she looked him over.

         “I see.” she said, with a slight sigh.  “Well, bring him in.”

         She stepped aside, and Hannibal gestured with his hand that Will was to enter first.  He stepped into the house, feeling Hannibal behind him, and then heard the door slam firmly shut.

         “Hey!  We want to be part of this!”

         “No fair, we saw him first!”

         “Hannibal, you jerk, you open this door!”

         Alana walked to the window and pulled back a red and white striped curtain.

         “You three run along now.  You’ll find out soon enough.” she shouted through the glass.

         She then pulled the curtains tightly closed, and gestured for her visitors to have a seat at the table.

         This house was even smaller than Hannibal’s.  It was only a single room, with the kitchen and dining room on the right, and a bedroom area to the left.  Relaxing on the bed with a book was another woman, this one with blonde hair pulled back into pigtails, each tied with red and green ribbons.  She paid no mind to any of the people in the room, doing nothing more than turning a page.

         “You’ll have to excuse my wife.” she said.  “She’s still properly exhausted, as we all are.  Hannibal, why aren’t you _sleeping_?” the woman said, setting a tea kettle on the stove and getting out three teacups.

         “I found him in the woods.” Hannibal said.  “He was frozen near to death.  I couldn’t simply _leave_ him there, Alana.”

         Alana turned to regard Will with some pity on her expression now, as she set down the teacups and sat across the small table from him.

         “I suppose not.” she said, folding her hands in front of her.  “But that doesn’t mean you had to allow him to wake up here.”

         She gave Hannibal a hard gaze and he didn’t seem to flinch under it the way Will expected most people did.  He didn’t shrug his shoulders or react or give any indication that her accusatory glare made him feel uncomfortable.

         “I have never asked this of you before.” he stated.

         “No, you have not.  Which makes the number of favors I owe you unpleasantly large.  I’ll do my best, but I really don’t approve of this.”

         “You have my thanks.”

         She sighed, then turned to face Will.

         “Will, do you know where you are?”

         It definitely creeped him out that she knew his name.  He was absolutely certain that Hannibal hadn’t told it to her, right now anyway.  Then again, he had no idea how long he’d been asleep.

         He figured his best way to get out of this place unharmed was to be as polite to these people as possible, and he saw no harm in playing along with whatever weird beliefs they had.

         “The North Pole.” he said.  She narrowed her eyes and stared into him further.

         “You’re just saying what you know we want to hear.”

         He froze and found his gaze locked with hers.  He hadn’t expected her to be quite so…aware.

         “I’m very adept at knowing humans’ thoughts.” she said.  “Part of my job is helping Santa discern who is naughty, and who is nice.”

         He had no reply to that.  Absolutely none.

         “For your third Christmas, you were given a stuffed dog.  You named him Buster.  For your fourth Christmas, you were given a real puppy.  You named him Winston.  Your fifth Christmas was a fishing pole.  Your sixth, a tackle box.”

         Will stared in utter astonishment.  His mouth flapped open and closed a few times uselessly, and his eyes darted around the room for any answer as to how she knew any of those things.  The tea kettle began to whistle and she rose, the screeching sound fading as she poured the hot water into the three cups set on the table.

         When she sat down again, he saw again that pity on her face.

         “Between your sixth and seventh Christmas, your mother died.  That year you asked Santa to bring her back to life.  Those types of wishes from children are the most heartbreaking, because of course we can’t deliver.  So instead Santa brought you some fly fishing gear, which was well used and well loved. 

         But then your father started to drink.  It wasn’t your fault, Will.  But the fights you got into at school were.  I felt terribly sorry for you.  We love you dearly, as we love all children.  But there was no way you could be given anything but coal that year.  Thankfully, you stopped believing, and so we were able to avoid that and simply give you nothing.”

         Will hadn’t noticed the water welling up in his eyes until that moment, and he blinked them back with anger.

         “How dare you!” he shouted, his jaw trembling with rage.  “How dare you judge an eight-year-old to be ‘bad’ because his father was an asshole!  I was helpless; I was a kid!  I needed _help_ from Santa, not _coal_ , not…not…abandonment!”

         Alana sat back in her chair with a finality, as if her job was done.

         “He believes.”

         “ _What_?” Will shouted, still angry that they blamed _him_ for getting into fights at school, when his own father was…his head was spinning.

         “You can’t be this angry at someone without acknowledging their existence.” Hannibal said calmly.  “The rule is only that you acknowledge Santa.  It says nothing about you liking him.”

         Hannibal turned to face him with that cold, sterile expression, though Will thought he saw a spark in his eyes.  He stood glaring at the two of them, face trembling with emotion and anger, and realized what he’d just said.  What he’d just heard.  It was all too much; the sudden reminder of his mother’s death, of his father’s drunkenness, the strange surroundings, this Alana knowing things that she could _not possibly know_.  His hands flew to his head and he pressed them hard against his head, an ache growing from behind his eyes as he forced the tears to not fall.

         “Will, my apologies that your memories are painful for you.  But I assure you, this was necessary.  You cannot stay in the North Pole if you do not get permission from Mr. Claus himself, and he will not grant permission if you do not believe.”

         Will’s hands flew down to his sides and he turned his rage onto Hannibal.

         “ _Stay_?  Why in _hell_ would I want to _stay_ here?  I never asked to come here!  Send me home, _now_!”

         Hannibal and Alana exchanged a look that made his stomach sink like a heavy rock.

         “I’m afraid that isn’t possible.” Hannibal said, his voice sounding almost sincere, and Will could tell that to Alana, it was.  “The possibility is closed for the season.  It will not re-open again until next Christmas Eve.”

         Will stared at them in horror.

         “You’re saying I’m stuck here for a _year_?”

         “Provided you are granted permission to stay, yes.”

         The calm demeanor with which Hannibal spoke only infuriated Will further, making him raise his voice even louder.  “And if I’m not granted permission?”

         “Will, please understand that this is not personal.  Any non-Christmas being that finds itself in this place has only two options.  Either to be granted permission to stay, or death.”

         “Or _death_?” Will cried, staring at the two of them with horror.  “You’re telling me that Santa Claus _kills people_ just for…wandering into his town?”

         “Oh, not Santa, goodness!” Alana said, horrified.  “He would never!”

         “Will, I strongly suggest that you calm down and let us explain the situation to you fully.  You gain nothing by shouting.”

         Begrudgingly, Will did as he was asked, if only because he still had in his mind that it wasn’t in his best interest to make these people upset with him. 

         “Will, when I found you, you were already nearly dead, were you not?”

         He sighed heavily and nodded, disliking these games Hannibal seemed to enjoy playing.

         “And what was it that had you nearly killed?”

         “What kind of stupid question is that?” he said, glaring at Hannibal, then at Alana, and then at Margot for good measure.  She merely turned a page in her book.

         “Please, humor me.”

         He sighed.

         “The blizzard.  The cold.”  
         “Yes, exactly.  Or in other words, the winter.”

         “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

         Hannibal leaned forward, just a hair, but it was the first motion he’d made in awhile, so Will unconsciously copied it.

         “And were Santa and his magic not here, then you would simply be dead.  Not because Santa had killed you, but because by all the natural laws you _should_ be dead.”

         Will furrowed his eyebrows, not liking where this was going but starting to understand nonetheless.

         “So if you were judged to not believe in Santa, then his magic would be revoked from you.  Which would leave you standing at the north pole of the Earth, unprotected and alone.”

         “And very shortly frozen to death.” he said, with a  heavy sigh.

         “Precisely.”

         “He’s a smart one, I’ll give you that, Hannibal.” Alana said. 

         “But if I can return home next Christmas, why can’t I return home now?”

         “The magic of Christmas is weakest right now.  Very few people are thinking about it.  They’re finished with their gifts and songs and celebrations.  But as the next Christmas approaches, their belief and joy of it will grow.  This will cause the magic’s boundaries to grow with it, until it encompasses the entire Earth for one night, during which all of us may travel anywhere we like, without harm, you included.”

         Will rubbed his forehead hard, then squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  He had a headache.  He sipped the tea, hoping it would calm him some.

         “I understand this is a lot to take in.” Hannibal said. “But unfortunately, we don’t have time to dawdle.  You must be judged by Santa within the next few hours, or the magic will kick you out itself.”

         Will’s hand shook as he lifted the teacup, and sipping the warm liquid did little to steady it.  He downed the entire cup within a few gulps, and reminded himself that living on the brink of death was merely a condition of his life, and had been ever since his mother had died.

         “Okay then, what are we waiting for?  Let’s go meet Santa.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to all you wonderful readers who have told me that you love this story.  
> It would not continue to exist without you.

         Hannibal’s friends were waiting for them the moment they left Alana’s house, the three of them all comically leaning with their ears against the window.  When the door opened they all scrambled to straighten themselves, as if the snow didn’t reveal their footprints across Alana’s otherwise pristine yard.

         “The three of you are impossible.” Hannibal said, with equal parts annoyance and affection in his voice.  It was hard for Will to tell whether he liked or hated them, though it was obvious that they liked him.

         Hannibal began to walk down the path, and with no other course of action he could think of, Will followed.  Behind them were Beverly, Brian and Jimmy, all whispering energetically among each other. 

         “What did Alana _say_ , Hannibal?  Did she make you believe, Will?”

         “We shall see soon enough.  There is little point to speculating.”

         That didn’t deter any of their whispers, and Will thought that they were all kind of growing on him a bit.  Brainwashed or not they were genuinely _happy_ , and it was nice for once to see people who weren’t miserable or angry. 

         Will took in his surroundings as they walked, finding that the Christmas theme of this place got even worse on the smaller details.  The lampposts were painted and curved like large candy-canes, and when he stepped near one he could actually smell mint, almost as if they’d been scented.  The street names were things like “Gingerbread Lane” and “Tinsel Walk”, all painted on beautifully hand-carved wooden signs.

         As they traveled it became obvious they were heading towards a low hill that had a large building on it, with many floors rising up from the base making it so the top looked almost like a castle.  It was huge, larger than Will thought and so farther away.  The houses ceased to line the wide path they were on, instead being replaced by dark pine trees, none of which were particularly tall. Though they were not planted in neat rows, it still looked to Will rather like a Christmas tree farm; a place he was very familiar with. 

         He wondered what type of trees they were, and wandered towards the edge of the path to take a better look.  It was dark, and their branches were covered in snow, making it hard to tell.  He found himself stepping closer to them, trying to get a look, when he heard a deep, low growl.

         He froze.  The sound was terrifyingly familiar, the same voice that had stolen his father and chased him here in the first place.

         “Will, what are you _doing?”_ Beverly cried, her hands wrapping tightly around his arm and yanking him back onto the path, back into the light.  He hadn’t realized how far into the trees he’d wandered until her pulling made him take several steps, rather than the one he’d thought he’d taken.

         “Don’t step out of the light like that!  We’re trying to _save_ you, not get you eaten!”

         He swallowed nervously, his heart still racing from the sound, and only nodded, unable to find any words.

         Shortly they were approaching the top of the hill, the structure looming up in front of them, blocking the view of whatever lay beyond it.  The columns of the building were all painted like candy-canes, the eaves all draped with green pine garland and glowing Christmas lights.  The sign that hung above the two huge wooden doors said “Santa’s Workshop”, and even Will had to admit this was more than something elaborately staged.

         Train tracks lead in and out and around the building, some with hand-pumped flat cars all piled high with toys, some completed, some partially made.  It was clear from the lack of snow on the tracks that they were used often and recently.  In every window of the large building flickered a candle, and though Will heard no sound that indicated anyone was working, he wasn’t surprised when Hannibal pushed open the large doors and they were indeed walking into a workshop.

         More like a factory, actually; with conveyor belts, organized work lines that demonstrated clear manufacturing design.  As they walked past the eerily silent tables, Will spied blueprints laid out in a manner that real workers would do; this part half-folded, this edge wrinkled from being studied so many times.  This place, whatever it was, really made toys.

         “I _told_ you that cart design was too complicated.” Brian whispered, pointing to one of the blueprints that was particularly wrinkled, and also written over, with various post-it notes scribbled here and there.

         “It isn’t if they would let me do a proper training on how to read it!” Jimmy snipped back.  “It’s no harder than Furby!”

         At the mention of the copyrighted toy, Will took a closer look at the actual things being constructed, rather than the blueprints.  Among what looked like to be original designs, he saw very familiar and corporately-made toys; Hot wheels, Barbies, Nerf guns, even boxes that said Fischer Price and Mattel on them.  He frowned, wondering how in hell _any_ of those were being hand-made, and yet it was obvious they were from the myriad of partially-constructed versions of everything they walked by.

         At the back of the large room was a staircase that led to a balcony that surrounded it on all sides, ideal for supervisors to look down and watch the work.  The five of them walked up it, their footsteps echoing across the empty workshop.  Hannibal led them down a hall, then another, then up another staircase, and here, the whispering from behind him grew more hushed, then stopped.

         “Ah, so you three respect _his_ wishes for quiet, just not mine.” Hannibal said.

         They did not reply.

         With each step they took Will felt a growing sense of unease.  The halls were dark, lit only by single candles here and there, until they took one more staircase.  Now brightly-lit chandeliers hung in the hall, which was decorated such as Will had ever seen.  The walls were beautiful polished mahogany, as was the floor, along which ran a deep red, plush carpet.  Draped over every painting and statue and vase was Christmas ribbon and pine garland, the scent of which hit Will’s nose strongly, indicating it was very fresh.

         All the paintings themselves were of different renditions of Santa Claus, some looking positively ancient, others looking much more modern.  At the end of the hall was a set of impossibly tall double-doors, with a guard standing on either side, actual spears in their hands.  They both stepped forward to block the way, and Hannibal stopped.  Will’s eyes couldn’t keep from examining the wooden doors.  They were carved with intricate vines of holly leaves, interspersed at random intervals with berries, that intertwined together to form the large letters SC.

         “What is your business with Santa?” one of them asked.

         “I have a request.” Hannibal replied.  “One that cannot wait.”

         He stepped aside to reveal Will behind him, and the two guards looked him over quickly, each nodding with a severity that made him nervous.

         “I’ll go tell him.” one said, turning and pulling the enormous door open with one hand, without a squeak, so well-balanced was the door hung.

         No one moved or spoke for the entire minute that he was gone.  When he returned, he nodded once.

         “Santa will see you.”

         Behind him, Will could _feel_ the tension in Hannibal’s friends.  With absolute silence the guards pulled the large doors open.  Revealed was a room that could not be described by any other words than ballroom.  The polished wooden floor stretched to walls at least fifty feet away, with four stone columns rising up in the center to hold up the ceiling.  It too was stone, with at least twenty chandeliers hanging from it, none of which were lit.

         Hannibal stepped forward, and Will hesitantly behind him, though all he could see was darkness.  As they walked, chandeliers of candles flickered to life above their heads, lighting their path as they went.  Everything was silent; even the jingle of the three behind him as they walked was somehow dampened.  Ahead of them sat a large throne, upon which sat a man dressed like Santa Claus.

         His face was severe and his eyes serious, though Will could still tell from looking at him that he was _good_.  His dark skin contrasted with the white curly beard that flowed from his chin, a thick, red coat with white fur trim draped over his shoulders.  He wore round spectacles and a deep frown, as if he carried the weight of the entire world upon his shoulders.

         Hannibal stopped perhaps ten feet in front of him and took a slight but respectful bow.  Behind them Will saw his three friends bow much more deeply.

         “Hannibal.” the man on the throne said, his voice booming and deep.  It commanded authority, and Will could easily see how people would become brainwashed by it. 

         “Santa Claus.” Hannibal said.

         He said it with such genuine sincerity that Will found himself remembering everything he’d seen and heard and…starting to wonder.

         “You may rise.”

         Will heard the soft jingling of the three elves behind him as they stood up straight.

         Santa leaned forward, steepling his fingers, his face deep in thought.

         “I must say, I did not expect _you_ to ever come to me with this request.”

         Hannibal gave a single, sincere nod.

         “Neither did I.”

         Santa leaned back and rested his hands on the arms of the throne.

         “I also have no reason to grant it.”

         Behind him, Will heard the three elves gasp with shock.

         “Why are they here?  Do you think their presence matters?” Santa said.

         “They simply tagged along, and I didn’t have the heart to stop them.”

         Santa gave a derisive snort.

         “The way you twist words will never cease to amaze me.” he said.

         “Thank you.”

         Will raised an eyebrow at that.  Of all the things he’d seen and heard so far, that was somehow the weirdest.

         “I am not naïve, Hannibal.  I am perfectly aware of what will happen if you have your way.”

         “Is that so terrible?” Hannibal said, to which Santa tilted his head slightly downward in warning.  “I have kept my side of our arrangement perfectly, without flaw.” Hannibal continued. 

         “Until last night.”

         For the first time since meeting him, Will caught what might possibly have been a shift of weight in Hannibal’s stance, indicating a slight bit of discomfort.

         “Until last night.” he said, as if he were admitting to some horrific transgression.  “Hence you understand why I am here.”

         “I do not even pretend to begin to understand your motivations.”

         The two locked eyes and stared at each other for a long moment, until the tension in the air became distinctly uncomfortable.

         Then Santa’s eyes shifted to look directly at Will.  He shrunk back, mostly out of instinct, until he felt himself bump into Beverly.

         “It’s okay.” she whispered to him, and it gave him a bit of comfort.  _Her_ motivations were nothing but kind.

         “What do you understand of your situation, William Graham?”

         Will’s blood turned cold at the mention of his full name.  He had no idea how this man knew it…except that he did.  His eyes roamed up to the candles that had illuminated themselves as they’d walked into the room. There was absolutely nothing there that could have lit them.  He turned back to face…Santa Claus...knowing that he stood on the edge of something, the likes of which if he tumbled over, he would not be coming back from.

         “Enough to know that I don’t understand more than I do.” he said.  He saw the surprise on Santa’s face, and he gave an approving nod.

         “Well, he’s certainly like you.” Santa said, turning to Hannibal.  “Will, tell me what you are sure of.”

         Will swallowed thickly, the atmosphere of this place getting to him, making him feel as though the weight of his entire future did indeed rest on his next words.

         “I understand that I nearly froze to death, and that Hannibal saved my life.”

         “Do you understand what he is asking?”

         “For me to have permission to stay here until next Christmas.”

         “Interesting.” Santa said, leaning forward his throne once again, and somehow Will had the feeling he’d gotten the answer wrong.

         “And don’t come crying to me when you’re cold, either!  See if I care whether you freeze to death.” he said, and Will froze, the words having hung in his mind during his entire ordeal in the blizzard; the last words his father had spoken to him.  Though he had shouted them; anyone near them in the town could have heard…

         “Yeah, well, I wish you’d die too.” Santa said.  The exact words Will had whispered to the shooting star while he lay on his back in the snow.  Will’s eyes grew wide and he backed away from Santa, horror creeping its way into his blood, running down his arms to make his fingers cold despite the warm coat and gloves he wore.

         “How do you know that?” he said.  All eyes in the room turned to look at him; the three elves with pity; Hannibal with curiosity, Santa with accusation.  Will turned towards him with anger, stepping forward until he was up on the dais, now taller than Santa who remained seated.

         “Tell me!  Tell me how you know it!” he cried, his voice echoing through the large empty ballroom.

         “It isn’t difficult to hear a wish spoken directly at my sleigh.” he said.  “And in your case, I was happy to grant it.”

         Will’s eyes grew wide and the fear that had been spreading through his arms shot down his spine and pricked his toes. 

         “ _You_ sent that thing into my house?”

         Santa nodded, and Will gaped.

         “You wished for it.”

         “No, not like that!  Not…not…that’s not fair!  You don’t grant wishes of life, but you grant wishes of death?!  What the hell kind of fucked up Santa _are_ you?”

         At his words there was a gentle gasp from all three of the elves, and Will felt a tingle in his fingers and toes that was warm, and nothing like the fear.  It started to spread, rising up his hands and feet, then up his legs and arms.  He looked down and saw that a glowing amber light was surrounding him, like glitter in the air or sparkles from a crystal.  He backed away, trying to get away from it, but only fell down the steps.

         Hannibal caught him, keeping him from hitting his head on the floor.  He jerked away, stood, and started to run, but could not escape the light.  He headed towards the doors, but before he could reach him the light had surrounded even his head, blinding him to nothing but itself.  He was entirely enclosed in the sparkling magic, until it lifted him off the ground and he felt every ounce of cold leaving his body, even parts he was unaware of it, such as the tips of his ears and nose.

         Then it faded rather abruptly, depositing him on the wooden floor with a thump. 

         “Yay, he did it!” Jimmy shouted, and the three of them ran over to him, their hands under his arms and pulling him to his feet before he was ready.  “He called him Santa and meant it!  You did it Will, you believed!”

         Will stood shakily, lifting his head to find Hannibal walking towards him, and the throne empty.  The candles flickered out as Hannibal approached, and as Will was ushered through the doors they went out entirely, without a single breath of wind or any other reason to be put out.


	7. Chapter 7

         Will was still trembling when they stepped back out into the snow.  He pulled his coat tighter around himself, though his trembling had nothing to do with the cold, so it didn’t help.

         “You don’t need that coat anymore.” Jimmy said helpfully.  “You’re protected from the winter now, like we are.”

         Will looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

         “No, really!  Just try it, take off your coat.” Brian said.  Will glanced at Beverly, who nodded with a smile, the bell on the end of her hat jingling as she did so.  Will paused, turning around to look at the giant castle workshop, wanting to get away from it as fast as he could.  But he also had a feeling they wouldn’t stop bugging him about it until he took off his coat, so he quickly shrugged it off, surprised to find that the air didn’t feel deathly freezing.  Instead it felt freshly brisk, and _nice_.  Almost as if his coat had been suffocating him.

         “See?” Beverly said, the three of them grinning at him as they all began walking again.  Will nodded, turning his face up to look at the stars, which shined brightly in the perfectly cloudless, moonless sky.  The snow was crunching beneath his feet, he could _feel_ that the air was cold, but it felt nice, like a crisp fall day.  The shivers that had brought him nearly to death were nowhere within him. 

         When he returned to looking at the path, he saw they were surrounded by the trees again as they headed back towards the town.  His gaze was drawn into their darkness, his eyes searching the shadows for the monster that had chased him here.

         “It can’t get you if you stay in the light.” Beverly said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder.  He turned and faced her, his eyebrows furrowing together.

         “It?”

         “The monster of darkness.” she said.  The words sounded almost childish, but her adult face was absolutely serious when she’d said it.

         Will had no trouble believing her that it were real.  The image of his father’s blood dripping from its face was still very fresh in his mind.

         “Santa’s light keeps it away.” Brian said.  “Just stay in the light, Will, and you’ve got nothing to be afraid of.”

         Will looked between them all for conformation, and each of the three elves nodded in agreement.  Hannibal didn’t turn to face them, however, giving Will only the back of his head as he continued to lead them down the path towards the town, where everything was lit.

         They reached the junction in the paths where they had met Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian, and everyone stopped.

         “We’ll see you in the morning Will, to help you figure out your work assignment!” Beverly said cheerfully.

         “You’re leaving?”

         “We’re not going far, just to our houses!”

         Will turned to look at all four of them, for the first time thinking about where he was supposed to…live.  At the North Pole.  While he was waiting for Santa’s magic to let him return home.  He squeezed his eyes shut from how ridiculous and insane this all was.

         “You are welcome to stay at my house, of course.” Hannibal said, his low bass voice speaking for the first time since they left the castle.  Will found relief in hearing it, Hannibal’s silence bringing Will more unease than he’d realized.

         “Well of _course_ he is, Hannibal! You’re the one who asked for permission for him to stay!  You _have_ to offer him your hospitality.”  Jimmy said, rolling his eyes.

         “It is still polite for me to offer formally.” Hannibal said.  “Will, you are welcome to spend the year at my home.  You may have my bed, and I shall sleep in the sitting room tonight until I can acquire a second one.”

         Will had nothing to say.  There was nothing _to_ say.  Despite his sudden lack of need for a coat, he didn’t particularly want to have to sleep outside in the snow for a year.  And despite their friendliness, Will found the idea of staying with one of the three elves a bit…grating. 

         “Thank you, Hannibal.” he said, turning to him with the best smile he could muster.  “I accept your hospitality with much appreciation.”

         Hannibal gave him a tiny smile, though his eyes shone brightly, reflecting the stars from above them and making them brighter.

         “Okay then, we’ll see you first thing tomorrow, before the shift bell!” Jimmy said, as the three turned and began walking away down the path, towards the lighted part of town. 

         “Bye Will, glad to meet you!” Beverly shouted, waving.  Will smiled despite himself, the cheer on her face hard to ignore, and waved back.

         Then the three of them disappeared around a bend in the path, their giddy and laughing voices echoing off the walls of the small houses, until the sound was muffled by the snow and there was silence.

         Neither Will nor Hannibal moved for a long moment.  Will listened, hard, for any sound at all, and found it a bit disconcerting with how absolutely quiet it was.

         “Is everyone…asleep?” he asked.

         “Yes, Will.” Hannibal asked.  “After Christmas Eve, all the elves sleep for a full week.  They need their rest, after the intense work they put into getting all the gifts ready in time for Christmas.”

         “Right.” Will said, furrowing his forehead. “But you aren’t asleep.”

         “No, I am not.”

         Will turned to face Hannibal, but found him difficult to see in the darkness.  When the elves had been near them, there had been light to see by no matter where they went…but they seemed to have taken it with them when they left.  Now there was only the glow of the Christmas lights that traced the eaves and windows of the nearby houses, and the candy-cane lamps, all casting strange colored shadows across Hannibal’s face.

         “You aren’t…”

         “There is time for questions and conversations, Will.  And I do hope we have many, as I have greatly enjoyed our conversations thus far.  But right now, we must get you to sleep, so that you are fully rested before reporting to work in the morning.”  
         “Work.” Will said.

         “Yes, of course.  All inhabitants of Santa’s town must work for him in some manner.”

         Will narrowed his eyes.

         “That includes you.”

         “That includes me.”

         Will gave a single nod, hearing what Hannibal was saying between the lines.  Though he might appear just like the others, Hannibal was not an elf, but something else.  As to what that was, Will couldn’t begin to fathom, but he liked him for it.  The elves were nice.  In small doses.

         “Shall we return to my house, then?”

         “Lead the way.”

         Now that Will had seen the town and seen what a normal elf house looked like, it was obvious to him that the path to Hannibal’s house was different.  It was lit by strings of Christmas lights, but nothing else; providing only the barest amount of light that went no further than the edge of the path.  Surrounding it were the dark pine trees, the shadows of which encroached upon them, swallowing up the light of the town behind them until it could not be seen.

         The windows of Hannibal’s house threw light, however nothing more than the soft warm glow of a fire lit inside.  It was not decorated nearly as lavishly as the other houses, though there were green wreaths hung on each window with red bows, a single candle burning in the center of each.  It was _tasteful_ , though beautiful, and Will liked it much more than the other gaudy, glowing houses.

         Hannibal pushed open the door, and from then on busied himself as a host.  Will had a thousand questions, none of which he could even get out as he was fed dinner, ushered back into the bedroom, offered a fresh nightgown and a glass of water and was told to get as much sleep as possible.

         “I will wake you when it is time.” Hannibal said, and the door was closed softly but firmly.  Will huffed and grumbled as he changed back into the nightgown, ready to give Hannibal a piece of his mind the moment he got the chance. 

        

* * *

         Will heard the faint sound of a loud train whistle far off.  He grumbled and rolled over, ignoring it.  He could sleep at least until his alarm went off…

         The door to his bedroom creaked open softly, and Will sat up with a rush of fear, ready to fight his father off.

         It took his eyes a moment to adjust in the soft light of the Christmas tree, and a second longer to remember where he was.  Hannibal was standing in the light of the doorway, and Will relaxed his shoulders.  He wasn’t home.  He was in the bed of a stranger.  Safe.

         “Will, it is time to get ready for your first day.”

         Will sighed.  Even at the North Pole he couldn’t catch a break from working.

         They were silent while Hannibal made breakfast; more omelets, this time with sausage, which Will _really_ enjoyed.  He’d been too hungry and nearly dead last time to appreciate just how delicious Hannibal’s cooking was.

         “I’ve laid clothes out for you on the bed.” Hannibal said.  “Though you really shouldn’t be late on your first day, so I suggest dressing quickly.”

         Will nodded and walked back into the bedroom, still not at all used to sleeping in a nightgown.

         When he saw what was laid out on the bed, he snorted.

         “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

         He stared at the green tunic and red-and-white striped tights with horror.

         Hannibal came into the room with a concerned face.

         “Are you worried they won’t fit?  I am a bit taller than you.”

         Will turned to Hannibal with a snide expression.

         “I am not wearing this.”

         Hannibal cocked his head to the side slightly, like a bird, and feigned a perfect face of not understanding.

         “Don’t pretend you don’t get why.” he said.  “These clothes are _ridiculous_ , and I’m a grown man!”

         “I am aware of your physical maturity.” Hannibal said.  “However this is the standard of dress here.  You cannot expect to wear the one set of clothing that you brought with you for an entire year.  You’ll get used to it.”

         Hannibal turned and shut the door, and Will glared after him.  He hated that Hannibal’s words made perfect sense.

         “I do suggest you dress quickly, Will.  We’ll have just enough time to arrive on schedule if we leave in about ten minutes.”

         Will tore the nightgown over his head and glared down at the hideous elf clothes.  At _least_ there was a pair of briefs, which seemed normal except for their dark green color.  He put those on first, since they were familiar and he knew how to wear them. 

         Then he stared at the tunic and tights and pointed-toed shoes and _elf hat_ with disdain.  And honestly, confusion.  He had no idea how to even put the tunic on.  He pulled it over his head and then it just hung there loosely.  He realized there was a belt to go with it but couldn’t figure out the buckle for the life of him.  He gave up on it.

         The tights were another problem.  When he tried to put them on like pants his foot got stuck, not sliding down any farther than a few inches before the material merely stretched, getting him stuck with red and white stripes up to one shin. 

         “Will? Is everything alright?”

         “I’m fine!” he shouted, no way in _hell_ admitting that he didn’t know how to dress himself, despite the fact that the clothes were impossible.

         He struggled to yank the tights up inch by inch, the entire thing bunching as it went, until he finally got his foot to the bottom of one leg.  Getting the other leg on was slightly easier as he sort of knew what he was doing.  The waist was twisted and uncomfortable and he cursed under his breath.  The shoes at least had normal buckles and he put those on, intensely grateful that Hannibal lacked the affinity for bells on the ends of the toes.

         He was _not_ wearing the hat.

         He opened the door with agitation and stormed into the other room, holding the unbuckled belt in his hand.

         “I can’t figure this thing out.”

         “My apologies, I should have given you instruction.” Hannibal said, rising from the seat where he’d been reading a book.  He walked towards Will with perfect grace, his footsteps almost silent on the wooden floor.  Will held the belt out to him and felt Hannibal’s finger’s brush his own as he took it.  He stretched the black leather out between his hands and then clasped both ends in one palm.

         “Allow me to show you.” Hannibal said, his arms sliding around Will’s waist, the press of the leather against the small of his back tugging him slightly closer to Hannibal.  He felt his fingers brush against his sides as he arranged the cloth of the tunic beneath the leather.  A blush rose to Will’s cheeks at Hannibal’s proximity, and he was grateful for the length of the tunic, as it covered the half-erection that swelled under the bunched tights.

         Hannibal’s hands were strong and confident as he brought the belt around front.

         “Now observe.” Hannibal said, and Will tipped his head down, feeling the point of Hannibal’s hat as it brushed against his hair.  He watched as Hannibal opened the complicated buckle and weaved the leather through it, tugging once roughly so that Will was pulled towards him again before snapping it closed.

         He then slid the excess into a strap on the side, his fingers pressing against Will’s body, making his blush deepen.  When Hannibal stepped back he almost felt cold at his absence; almost took a step forward to remain near to him.

         Will’s eyes averted Hannibal’s gaze as he couldn’t help noticing just how attractive he was.  It was just a crush because Hannibal had rescued him, he told himself.  Nothing more. 

         “There, you are fit to be seen, at least.  I won’t push the cap.”

         Will’s eyes darted to Hannibal’s for just a second and their gazes locked together.  Will’s blush reddened further and he knew Hannibal could see it now.

         “You’ll become accustomed to the fashion quickly, I assure you.”

         In the silence following those words, Will could almost hear Hannibal’s unspoken _I know because I did_.

         “Now let us hasten.” Hannibal said, turning to open the door.

         The cold air rushed into the house, and Will felt it, but not to an unpleasant level.  It at least quelled the heat in his body, bringing him down to a normal level again.  He followed Hannibal out into the darkness, led on by the Christmas lights, heading directly back towards the castle that he so recently couldn’t have gotten far enough away from.

         “Do I have to see Santa again?”

         “Do you dislike him?” Hannibal asked, and Will snorted.

         “What’s there to like?  He’s an asshole.  Pretentious bastard, judging children for actions basically beyond their control…”

         Hannibal stopped and turned to face Will so quickly he halted in his sentence.  His eyes were like stars in the darkness, burning into Will with a ferocity that seemed barely contained.  He reached out and clasped Will’s chin with three fingers.

         “While I hold no ill will towards you for these sentiments, the elves will.” Hannibal said.  “They adore Santa, as they were made with the purpose of serving him.  So I beg of you, Will; do not share such thoughts with them.”

         In that sentence Will heard Hannibal inadvertently admit several things: one, he was _not_ an elf, at all.  Secondly, he didn’t like Santa any more than Will did; and thirdly, he cared about Will—perhaps for that reason.

         “I’ll keep it just between us, then.” Will said softly, gazing into Hannibal’s eyes that were like stars in the dark; a light within them that only shone when they were in near darkness, and all other lights ceased to drown it out.

         “Good.” Hannibal said, his grip on Will’s chin softening, until when he slid his fingers away it was almost tender.

         He turned to begin walking again, and Will followed him, his eyes darting out into the shadows of the trees that lined the path, knowing that whatever Hannibal was, the truth of him would only be revealed in the darkness.

        

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

         It surprised Will how many elves there were.  Their houses were so small that he’d naturally assumed most of them lived alone, but from the crowds walking towards the factory, that seemed to not be the case.  Their chatter was loud and excited, lots of elves running up to others to hand out tight hugs and excited squeals, as if they hadn’t seen each other in years.  Every one of them was cheerful, the snippets of conversation Will caught all about what they were going to work on for the new year.

         “I’ve got _three_ new ideas for Barbie outfits, I just _know_ one of them is going to get approved!”

         “I’ve been perfecting my painting technique and I’m going to apply for a promotion!”

         “I heard you broke the record last year for Most Wheels Made in a season, how did you do it?”

         The hadn’t gone two blocks before he heard “Yay!  There they are!” in Bev’s now-familiar voice, and the giggling of the Three Musketeers as they pushed their way through slower elves to get to him and Hannibal.

         “Will, you look so great!” Bev said.

         “I dunno, he looks weird without a hat.” Brian stated, which earned him an elbow in his side from Jimmy.

         “Be supportive.”

         The three of them started to chatter as they walked, their voices loud and rambunctious, though hardly standing out among the other elves.

         “So Will, what jobs do you think you might get?  What toys are you good at making?” Jimmy asked, excited.

         “I’ve never made a toy in my life.” he said, frowning.

         “Oh, but that doesn’t matter!” Bev tacked on quickly, as if Will would somehow be upset by this.  “You must have made _something_.  Any skill you have can be useful to Santa!  What are you good at?  Hammering?  Sewing?  Baking?”

         “Fishing.” Will replied.

         Brian and Jimmy’s eyes both lit up.

         “Oh, that’s excellent!  There’s a new Super Trout Fishing game coming out in ten months and it’s going to be popular!  We could use your skills on the realism.”

         Will had to furrow his eyebrows a bit at their talking of the future with such…certainty.  He glanced up and noticed the castle was looming closer, they were almost to the double-doors now, where all the elves filed in.  Smoke was already rising from its many chimneys and the carts that had been so quiet on his last visit were now rolling along the tracks, piled with raw materials such as wood and paint and nails.

         “Well don’t worry.  Bedelia is _amazing_ at assigning jobs, both for anyone new and for elves that want to switch.” Beverly said.

         “Yeah, she even found _Hannibal_ a job.” Jimmy said, earning him a rebuttal to his earlier elbow from Brian.

         “We don’t talk about that.”

         “I was just trying to be supportive.  Like you said.”

         “Well there are other ways without bringing up the unpleasantries of Hannibal’s first days here.”

         Will turned out their bickering as the threshold of the doors approached.  They stepped through, and the factory was alive with activity.  The sound of hammering, sawing, chatter and machinery filled his ears, along with merry Christmas carols being sung by elven voices, thankfully in-tune. 

         A wave of elves pushed them through the door and towards the working floor, when Will felt a strong hand grip his own and pull him through the crowd in another direction.

         “Bye Will!  We’ll see you later!  Make sure you tell us what job he gets, Hannibal!”

         Will was pushed a bit and shuffled by a bunch of strangers with pointed ears, yanked along by Hannibal’s hand, before they finally settled at the back of a much calmer line of elves.  Hannibal stopped pulling him and Will expected him to let go of his hand, but he strangely didn’t.  Even stranger, Will found himself clinging to it like an anchor in a sea of madness, something solid and warm to hold on to; something _real_ in this impossible nightmare.

         He followed the line with his eyes to where it began, looking up at a closed wooden door, painted blue.  Above it was a sign that read “Assignment Office.”

         “Is this really necessary?” Will said, turning to Hannibal, who had not spoken one word since they left his house. 

         “Yes and no.” Hannibal replied, and Will rolled his eyes, as he should have expected such an answer from Hannibal.  “It isn’t quite required, in your case.  However I should think that having nothing to do for the entirety of a year would not be best for your psyche.  Bedelia is excellent at what she does, and I am confident she will find you a suitable position that you will find fulfilling.”

         “Like she did for you.” Will snipped, turning his head to face forward, though he kept their hands clasped tightly together, and Hannibal didn’t object. He caught the slight but confident nod that Hannibal gave at his statement anyway.

         “As she did for me.”

         “And what is it that you do?” Will asked, still feeling ticked off about this entire charade; the stupid clothes, getting an _elf job_ , working in the same building where Santa lived…

         “I have several persuasions that are quite useful to Santa Claus.” Hannibal said.  Will should have figured he’d dodge the answer.  He seemed to dodge answering questions even when there was no point, simply because he liked the game.

         They didn’t speak again as the line inched up, but neither did they let go of each other.  Will found himself remembering Hannibal’s hands on him earlier, as he _dressed him_ , and a blush sprang to his cheeks.  His mind started to race with the idea that he was _attracted_ to this…non-elf, to whatever Hannibal was, and he tried to gain his footing.  He’d had a few crushes in high school, but none of them had been interested in him in return.  There was that one kiss with Molly, but that hadn’t worked out as soon as her parents found out who his father was, and he honestly hadn’t been that broken up about it…

         Will had been entirely lost in his thoughts so that suddenly they were next, and he was staring at the wooden blue door with equal parts glare and nervousness.

         He had no idea how to make fucking toys.

         “Name?” an elf sitting at a small desk beside the door said, not taking his eyes off of the ledger he was writing in.

         “Will Graham.” Hannibal said.  “Invited by Hannibal.”

         The elf raised his head and adjusted his reading glasses, squinting at the two people standing in front of him, his eyes traveling down their arms to their attached hands.  Will blushed heavily, somehow thinking that the elf was getting a deeper impression about them than was accurate.

         Then his eyes lifted back up and narrowed at Hannibal’s face.

         “Hannibal.” he said.

         “Frederick.”

         “I never expected the likes of you to be here with…an invitee.”

         “If the world contained only the events that we expected, it would be a rather unhealthy and uninteresting place to live, I imagine.” Hannibal said.  Frederick narrowed his eyes at Hannibal and it was apparent that this elf held no love for him. 

         “This was authorized?” he said, turning his eyes towards Will and raking them over his form, as if deciding whether he approved.  Will gave him a steely glare.

         “By the highest authority.” Hannibal said.  “Or he would be frozen by now.”

         Frederick grumbled and began writing in his ledger.  He then stared at it for awhile, not looking at either of them, appearing to be biting his tongue regarding something.

         Then the door creaked open, and he snipped, “You may enter, Will.”

         Will stepped to move forward, but halted when Hannibal’s fingers let go of him, and he realized he would be going in alone.

         “I shall await your assignment and then guide you to wherever it may be.” Hannibal said reassuringly.  Will swallowed down some nerves.  He wasn’t sure why.  It wasn’t like he cared what in hell stupid elf job he was given.

         He stepped into the room and the door shut behind him on its own.  He supposed he was going to have to get used to that; candles lighting themselves and doors closing independently, but he was never going to _like_ it. 

         He glanced around the room and saw stacks of papers and files piled to the ceiling, surrounding all four walls.  From them sprouted sprigs of pine branches and holly, complete with berries, almost as if they were growing out of the paperwork itself.  In the center was a small wooden table, hardly big enough for two to eat at, and two chairs set facing each other.  In one of them sat an elf with long blonde hair and a severe though beautiful face, her expression placid but not at all comforting.

         “Will Graham.” she said, rising to her feet and reaching out a hand.  He shook it, and immediately felt cold.  This elf was very close to Santa, and he didn’t like her for it.  “Welcome.” she said.  He gave a tight nod.

         “Have a seat.” she said, gesturing to the empty chair, while sitting back down in hers.  He did so, expecting to be asked a bunch of prying questions that he was fully prepared to dodge and/or lie about.

         What he was _not_ expecting was to have four cold fingers pressed to his temple, and for his vision to suddenly go completely black.

         “What the _hell_ …?” he shouted, fear spiking through him.

         “Shhh, I can’t concentrate if you squirm.  Now what are your skills and interests…” she said, and immediately images of himself fly-fishing flashed before his eyes.  He felt the heat of the sun on his face, heard the buzz of mosquitoes in his ear, felt the rush of the cold water around his waders.  The memory was as real as if he was there himself, and he instantly calmed as he was surrounded by the quiet of the stream.

         “There, now that you’re relaxed, we can begin.” he heard her voice, disembodied, far away. 

         His memory flashed to him chopping Christmas trees down on the farm.  Hauling them over his shoulder to toss on the truck.  Cursing as he realized he’d forgotten his axe again.  The ache in his shoulders, the bite of the cold on his cheeks.

         “Hmmm…let’s see if we can find something more cheerful.”

         His mind flashed to playing with Winston.  To tossing sticks as far as he could and Winston happily chasing after them, only to drop them at Will’s feet and wag his tail eagerly for him to do it again.  To them rolling around on the carpet together, fake-wrestling over a ball, until Will let him have it and he was rewarded with licks to his face.  His heart was joyful.  He was happy.

         “The level of cheer is right, but there’s no positions available in the dog breeding department…” she said, pulling the memory away.

         “No…” Will said weakly, but then it was forgotten as the next one filled his mind.

         His memory flashed to fixing motors; boat motors, car motors, taking on odd-jobs at the only garage in his town, tinkering to relax himself when he was upset.  His fingers covered in grease, his mind occupied by the mechanical puzzles before him, his heart at peace with whatever hell his father had caused in his life, far away from his mind.

         “Perfect.” Bedelia said, and she pulled her fingers away.  Will blinked as the sight of the office came back to him, and rubbed his eyes with his hands, expecting to have a headache and surprised that he didn’t.

         Bedelia pulled a book out of the stack, and Will winced as he expected it to fall, though it hardly even wobbled.  She wrote in it with a pen and then shoved it back in, where it vanished among the other papers.

         “Your assignment will be Motor Repair.” she said.  “I’d put you in Motor Assembly, but there’s unfortunately no opening right now.”  
         Motor repair.  For toys, obviously, which he imagined was probably quite a lot of toys.

         Well, he wouldn’t _hate_ it.

         “You may leave now.” she said, gesturing towards another door from the one he came in from.

         “Okay.” he replied, not knowing what the hell else to say.  He didn’t want any more experiences like _that_ , ever again.

         He exited, only to find himself in a different, but equally noisy part of the workshop.  He glanced around frantically for Hannibal, his heart slowing when he found him only a few feet away.  Hannibal reached out his hand and to Will’s surprise, he took it. 

         As their fingers clasped together a wave of relief washed over him, and Will’s racing heart calmed.  It was almost as if he felt he was surrounded by enemies, and Hannibal was his only ally, the only one he could trust or count on.

         Their conversation about keeping his mouth shut regarding his feelings towards Santa came back to him, and then his feelings made perfect sense.

         “What assignment have you been given?” Hannibal asked, his voice so certain, so unafraid.  Will remembered how he’d stared Santa down; eye for eye, voice steady, resolve unwavering.  How Santa had tried to intimidate him…and had failed. 

         Will clasped Hannibal’s hand tighter, and he saw the corner of his mouth prick up with a pleased smile.

         “Motor repair.” he said.  “I won’t entirely hate it, and I know what I’m doing.”

         Hannibal gave a curt nod and began to lead Will through the workshop, the maze of cheerful elves happily working away as Santa’s slaves becoming a blur to him as they walked, the only thing that he wanted to touch being Hannibal’s fingers, the only sound he cared to hear being Hannibal’s voice.


	9. Chapter 9

         It turned out that working in Motor Repair wasn’t that horrible after all.  The other departments were hectic, the pressure to make daily quota high, elves working frantically (though somehow, always cheerfully) to make as many toys as possible.

         Completed toys were sent to Testing, which was apparently where elves who weren’t good at anything else wound up.  After only a week Will learned that references to being “sent to Testing” were an elvish insult; though he honestly didn’t understand why, as he thought the testers were rather nice.  And laid back, which he enjoyed.

         He met them often, as they brought any motors that failed during testing to Motor Repair.  This department was much more Will’s speed.  Laid back and relaxed, the repairing elves had the luxury of taking their time.  They were solving problems, after all; figuring out what was wrong and how to fix it took much more time than simply assembling something from a blueprint.

         Will’s workbench looked very similar to the one in his shed at home.  It was a mess of gears, screwdrivers, and wrenches, greasy rags and half-assembled motors.  He’d thought he knew everything there was to know about motors, but it turned out that most toy motors were made of a material he was absolutely unfamiliar with: plastic.  It bent and broke the second it was forced.  Hitting things with a hammer to make them fit was not an option.

         Still, he enjoyed his work.  Things came to him non-functional, then left him in perfect working order.  There was no quota in the repair department; instead the saying “A toy repaired is a toy gained” hung above the door.  Though it wasn’t exactly silent (elves seemed to sing wherever they went), it was much quieter than the rest of the factory.  The elves here mostly kept to themselves.  There was talking, but mostly it was about the work.  The idle chatter that he was used to from Beverly and Gang was not present, and he liked it.  Despite himself, after a week, Will found himself actually enjoying going to ‘work’.

         “Shoot, shoot, shoot!” he heard from behind him, followed by the slamming of a screwdriver onto a workbench.  He swiveled his stool around to see a young elf with long brown hair hunched over her workbench with gritted teeth.  She was newer in the department than even he was, having arrived only this morning.  He got up and took the few steps towards her, glancing down at the half-assembled motor on the bench in front of her.

         “Maybe a second pair of eyes would help?” he said.  She turned to glare at him at first, but after a few seconds the anger faded a bit.

         “I can do it by myself.  I’m not a child anymore.”

         “Never said you were.” he said, subconsciously wiping the grease from his fingers with a rag.  “Sometimes a problem is just difficult, for anyone.  Maybe I can’t solve it either.”

         Her face relaxed some more then.

         “My name’s Will.” he said, sticking out his hand.  She shook it with a false confidence.  It was obvious to him that she felt she had to prove herself.  Maybe she did.  He knew nothing about how elves’ childhoods were- until he’d seen her, so young and new, it hadn’t occurred to him that they even had childhoods.

         “Abigail.” she said.  Then she turned to the motor.  “That center rod is stuck in those two gears and I can’t get it to budge.”

         Will leaned in and looked at the situation.  She was right; that was definitely part of the problem.  He imagined the motor in motion for a moment, watching the gears as they turned, and saw how the rod was pulled along by the teeth to get stuck where it was.  Gently, he took a screwdriver and pried the gears in reverse, the rod rolling out with them until it popped free.

         “Oh.” she said.

         “Now, it’s not that easy.” Will said.  “The real problem is why it keeps going that way in the first place, when it shouldn’t.  I think there’s a washer missing…here, see?” he said, pointing.  She leaned in, her long hair falling in front of her, which she swept back behind her shoulders.

         “Oh yeah.  Okay, I can find a washer.” 

         He saw her smile a little, and he returned it.

         “Thanks, Will.” she said.

         “No problem.”

         They didn’t speak again until the lunch bell, and then she dragged her stool over to sit next to him while the rest of the elves filed out to head to the cafeteria.

         Normally he ate there as well, surrounded by Beverly and Co., because he never saw Hannibal once they parted in the morning.  He still had no idea where he went, or what he worked on.

         But today, it would be nice to eat with Abigail.

         They opened their lunches over a clean-ish spot on Will’s workbench.  His mouth watered at the scent of the beef sandwich Hannibal had prepared for him; even his packed lunches were delicious.

         “You have rounded ears.” she said.  “Still in your first year?”

         Will’s brow furrowed as he wasn’t quite sure how to process that.

         “Um…sure.” he said.  “I mean…”

        She shook her head, as if knowing what he was going to say next.

        “You won’t leave come next Christmas.  I’ve seen you with your inviter.  You’re in love.”

        Will blushed a bit at the mention of Hannibal.

        “In love?  I mean, I definitely like his company, but I don’t, I wouldn’t, he doesn’t…”

        “Oh, you’ll see it soon.”  she said, interrupting his flailing attempt to speak.  She smiled softly at him.  “That’s how it goes in _all_ the stories.”

         Stories? He turned to look at her, suddenly full of curiosity.  Getting answers from Hannibal was like pulling teeth, and asking questions of his three friends gave Will headaches.  But Abigail seemed like a normal conversation.

         “What stories?”

         She shook her head.

         “It’s more like a fairy-tale; when it happens it’s exciting, and special.” she said, her eyes lighting up a bit.  “Elves can live forever, so one falling in love is a serious thing.  Falling in love with a human is even more serious.  Then you have to invite them, and they have to agree to stay here forever, then they become an elf too.  The last one was Alana, who invited Margot.  That was a hundred years ago now.  I wasn’t around to see it.”

         Will said nothing for a long time while he let that stir in his head.  There were two reasons he could think of why Hannibal hadn’t mentioned any of this.  One was that he was hoping Will would fall in love with him and didn’t want to scare him off with crazy stories of living at the North Pole forever.  The other was that Hannibal wasn’t an elf, and so none of this even applied.

         “You said elves _can_ live forever?”

         Abigail nodded, her cheeks full of lunch as she chewed, and he waited for her to swallow before she spoke.

         “Yup.  We don’t die of old age.  But accidents can still happen.  Or the shadow monster can get you.  But then when an elf dies, another one is allowed to be born.  So it’s kinda sad but also kinda good, because if Garrett hadn’t died ninety years ago, I wouldn’t have been allowed to be born.”

         Ninety years.

         “How old are you?” Will asked, taking a bite of his sandwich, hoping that asking wasn’t something offensive.

         “Only eighty-three.” she said.  “Graduated from school last Thanksgiving.  This is my first year working.  I don’t have a useful skill.  Bedelia didn’t know where to put me.  I’m just glad I didn’t start my career off in Testing…”

         “Hey, nothing wrong with Testing.  I like those guys.  Peter is a sweetheart.”

         She smiled softly at that.

         “Yeah, he is.”

         “But you have a natural aptitude for mechanics, I can tell.  You’re gonna be fine.  When you get stuck you just ask me, okay?  I’ll help you out.”

         Her smile grew fully wide then, and Will noticed that her eyes were blue.  She was beautiful and innocent, her heart as pure as his three elf friends, and he liked her. 

         The bell rang and they went back to work, but after that Will wasn’t quite as silent before, he and Abigail having snippets of conversations while they worked, him asking her about elf life, her asking him about Hannibal.

         On the walk home that evening (though ‘evening’ was a relative term, as it was always dark out), they moved at a more leisurely pace than the other elves, the two of them enjoying conversation with each other.

         “You are smiling more brightly than previously.” Hannibal said.  Will nodded, looking up at the stars as they walked, finding that he really liked the view of them.

         “I made a friend.” he said.

         “Oh?  Do tell.”

         At the genuine curiosity in Hannibal’s voice, Will saw an opportunity.

         “You only get to hear about my day if I get to hear about yours.”

         He saw a delighted smile spread over Hannibal’s face, where anyone else would have been annoyed.  Hannibal _enjoyed_ when Will played his games.

         “I spent today painting.” Hannibal stated simply, which told Will absolutely nothing, as there was a painting division in almost every department.

         “Now we’re even to ‘I made a friend’.” Will said.  “Gotta offer more than that if you want to get anything in return.”

         Despite the bite in his words, Will found he had a smile on his face that he couldn’t make go away.  One of their strides made the backs of their hands brush together, and Will hesitated, wondering now what it meant when Hannibal had held his hand on that first day.  But the brush of his fingers was enticing, and Will found his palm glowing with desire to touch him.

         “I was not slopping pigments onto common playthings for children.” Hannibal said, and Will laughed at the level of disdain Hannibal held for toys.  “I was creating masterpieces.”

         “Such as?”

         “Such as Botticelli’s _La Primavera_ and Hamilton’s _Achilles Lamenting the Death of Patroclus_.”

         “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that those are famous paintings.”

         He saw Hannibal stiffen and turned up to see his annoyed face, which only made him laugh more.

         “Hannibal, I don’t have an education in the arts.”

         “Well, then I shall have to educate you.” he said.  He said it as if he intended to know Will for a long time; but nothing in the way he spoke suggested that Will’s choice would be taken away from him, or that he would be kept prisoner at the North Pole forever.  He felt relaxed around Hannibal in a way he didn’t with anyone else, at the North Pole or elsewhere. 

         He decided he didn’t care what elf-lore said; he trusted Hannibal and he wanted to be close to him.  He reached out his fingers and tentatively curled them inside Hannibal’s palm.  He saw the delight on Hannibal’s face as he intertwined their fingers, the warmth of his grasp sending a glow up Will’s arm to his cheeks.

         “I had thought I’d seen beautiful art.” Hannibal said, his eyes glancing over Will’s face before returning to the path, “I had thought so, at least, until Botticelli painted _La Primavera_.  Nothing has quite captured my imagination since then, until recently.”

         Will was too unnerved by Abigail’s words to want to inquire as to what had changed his mind ‘recently’.  So he dug for another kind of answer.

         “And when was that?” he pried, hoping the distraction of their holding hands would bring Hannibal’s guard down enough for him to slip a plain answer.

         “Why 1477, of course.  They debate nowadays the date on which he finished it, but I still remember clearly observing the completion of it with my own eyes…”

         “You’re over 500 years old, then.” Will said, and Hannibal turned his face to look at Will with utter delight.

         “Clever boy.” he said.  “You have persuaded me to reveal to you a truth about myself by distracting me with fine art.”

         The way Hannibal looked over his face, Will thought perhaps the ‘fine art’ meant more than simply the painting. 

         Will turned his head to the side in a blush, which made him realize that they were back on the isolated path that led through the thick pine trees back to Hannibal’s house. 

         “How old _are_ you, Hannibal?”

         He felt Hannibal stop walking, only steps from his house, keeping them just outside the halo of light that it cast on the snow. 

         “The elves are as immortal as Santa Claus.  The eldest are as old as he, approximately seventeen hundred years.”

         “And you?” Will pressed, not nearly as curious about elf-life as he was about Hannibal. 

         “I am much more so.” he said.  Their eyes remained locked together, Will leaning in closer, allowing himself to get lost in the brightness that glowed from within Hannibal.

         “More immortal, or older?”

         “Older.  Far older.”

         The knowledge made Will’s heart beat faster.  It made everything about Hannibal that much more beautiful; and he admitted to himself now that yes, he found him beautiful. 

         “You’re afraid to tell me anything else.” Will said.

         “Your insight is frighteningly accurate, Will.” Hannibal said. 

         “Why?”

         “I do believe I’ve done my portion of sharing for tonight.” Hannibal said, taking his hand away from Will’s face.  “Now, do tell me about this new friend of yours.”

         Will sighed, but knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere further tonight.  Hannibal only told Will about himself in tiny drops, no matter how he pried.  They took the few steps until they were in the house, and after dinner was made and they were sipping hot chocolate at the table, Will told Hannibal about Abigail.


	10. Chapter 10

         Will walked down the polished, but plain, wooden staircase towards the basement.  The repair shop was low on washers and he’d been asked to get more, with only the vaguest directions of they were “Somewhere in the basement”.  He reached a room that was colder and was obviously underground, but still had a sturdy wooden floor and red painted walls, complete with pine garland hanging in drapes along the ceiling.

         It was full of trunks, large and small, some huge enough to fit a bear inside, others smaller than the palm of his hand.  They were stacked haphazardly, with no particular organization, in every color and shape, and among them stood Christmas trees, all joyously decorated and brightly lit with lights; some colored, some white. 

         Will walked over to one and found to his surprise that it was fake.  He couldn’t recall having seen a single artificial tree in this entire place; but now this storage room in the basement was full of them.  He shrugged, then walked over to the stack of trunks to begin searching through them to find the one full of tiny motor parts that was supposedly down here.

         He opened the first one and found it was full of dresses, all in little child sizes.  He lifted one up and held it, amazed at its beauty and old-fashioned design.  It looked like something a little girl from a hundred years ago would have wanted. 

         He glanced down into the trunk and saw that they were all like that; the deeper he dug, the older the fashions seemed, until at the bottom they seemed positively medieval; the sort of thing a peasant girl would have wished for.

         “Overstock.” he realized.  Having spent weeks among the elves, he was starting to think like they did, and he could easily see why these things were put into storage.  Fashions went in circles and who knew when one would come back; or when a child really into costumes or plays would want a period dress.

         He started to dig through the other chests, finding himself more and more intrigued by the antique toys.  Trucks made of actual wood.  Tin soldiers, no doubt made from real tin.  Dolls made of burlap with button eyes sewn on.  A wooden whistle that sounded like a train.  Deeper still and he found a drum that looked like it had actual sheepskin stretched over the top; followed by balls made of leather.  There were things that looked like nothing more than sticks to him, polished well and removed of splinters.  One he could tell was meant to be a wooden sword, with a rounded tip at the end for safety, and he could imagine the ancient children laughing with glee as they received their deepest-held wishes for Christmas.

         For the first time since he’d arrived, Will found himself looking at Christmas things with fondness, and a bittersweet sadness that he’d never had much of this cheer for himself.  He remembered getting Winston; perhaps one of the best moments of his life, and his brow furrowed.  He couldn’t understand why Santa had stopped bringing him gifts after his mother had died.  It was then that he’d needed them the _most_.  He thought of all the other children; the naughty ones who acted out, who cried for attention, who screamed for someone to notice them.  The ones who had never received the gifts that he held in his arms, because something had happened to them to destroy their innocence, and rather than receiving forgiveness, they were punished for it. 

         Will clutched the ungiven presents to his chest and mourned for them.  The unloved ones, the forgotten ones.  Ones like him.  It wasn’t until a tear fell that he realized he didn’t hate Christmas at all.  In fact he believed in everything it stood for; love, joy, kindness.  What he hated was _Santa Claus_ , who somehow took that and _perversed_ it; taking the joy away from the ones who needed it the most.

         He put the toys back gently, mourning each one and the child that it had never been given to.  It was like putting bits of himself back into the trunks, to be locked up and forgotten.  As he softly laid the last of the dresses back on top, he tilted his head to the side, listening.

         The sound was faint, and very far off, and it took him a moment to realize he’d been hearing it for awhile.  Music.  Absolutely beautiful music; nothing like the campy Christmas songs the elves sung, but something elegant and graceful.  He closed the lid of the trunk softly and rose, walking towards where it seemed to be coming from.

         There was nothing in front of him but artificial Christmas trees stacked so thickly he couldn’t see the wall behind them.  He stared at it for a long time, his eyes darting around them, wondering if there was some sort of radio playing softly.  But the sound was too pure; the crisp ring of bells tingling his ears in a way that was as pleasing as his favorite meal.

         He finally realized that the reason he couldn’t see the wall behind the Christmas trees was that there _was_ no wall, but an open doorway.  Will stepped forward, pushing his way through the brightly lit branches, getting scratched a bit and not caring.  He emerged into a hall that was lined with Christmas trees on both sides, what looked like at least fifty of them, every one decorated and brightly lit.  Some had colored lights, some white; some were covered in tinsel, some in ropes of garland, some in chains of popcorn and cranberries.  Between all of them were crammed end tables, all covered with other types of Christmas decorations; artificial poinsettias, baskets of plastic and wax fruit, vases filled with pine branches.

         The hall was very brightly lit from so many Christmas lights, all the colors blending together into a soft orange glow.  The music continued to drift towards him, refined and elegant, the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.  He was drawn to it, the hall of Christmas trees at times crowding in on him so that he had to push past branches, the tinkling of glass ornaments hardly reaching his ears over the sound of those beautiful bells.

         Bells and a…harp?  Had he ever even heard a harp?  The sound truly was as beautiful as people claimed.  The thought that he shouldn’t be down here didn’t even concern him; he didn’t care at all, so long as he could be closer to that music.

         It was haunting and brilliant; bright yet solemn.  As Will drew closer it grew louder, the sounds filling the entire hall of Christmas trees until it rang in his bones.  It wasn’t any Christmas song he knew; and he wondered if that was part of why he liked it so much. 

         He rounded a corner and the music became enthralling.  He saw another doorway from which light poured, brighter than the lights from the trees.  He was drawn to it in a way he’d never felt in his life.  His heart started beating faster as he drew closer, as he could already guess who it was that played so beautifully, so skillfully, a song that did not belong to Christmas.

         When Will reached the doorway he peeked his head around, not wanting to interrupt him.  Hannibal was there indeed, sitting upon a three-legged wooden stool, his fingers plucking the strings of a beautiful golden harp.  His eyes were closed and he looked as enraptured by the music as Will felt.  Behind him, the room was filled with musical instruments.  There was a piano, and two cellos leaning against it, along with a bass that stood in the corner.  There were shelves full of violins and flutes and clarinets; then other shelves covered in French horns, trombones, and even some things Will couldn’t name.

         His eyes fell back to Hannibal and he studied his face, his gaze wandering across his high cheekbones to his closed eyes.  His expression, which normally seemed stoic, almost cold, was instead peaceful.  His head moved slowly back and forth with his playing, the gorgeous sounds that he created washing over Will’s mind, erasing all the sadness he’d been feeling.

         As he stared at Hannibal’s face, he opened his eyes.  Will felt a jolt in his heart and a lump form in his throat, but Hannibal continued to play without a single break in his glorious music.  Their eyes met and Will didn’t see a reason to break their gaze.  Instead he stepped fully into the room and allowed himself to look at the face that he found so beautiful. 

         It didn’t feel right to be taller than Hannibal, and just as he thought it, a second three-legged stool appeared in front of him.  Without breaking eye contact with Hannibal he sat, neither of them speaking a word as Hannibal played.  His fingers were deft and skilled as they plucked and strummed the harp, Will’s eyes wandering from his to watch them, the sinews in his hands flexing as he moved to play each note.

         He let his eyes wander, admiring his forearms and the way they flexed, his biceps and the way they grew taught when he moved to play the high notes.  When Will let his eyes wander back to Hannibal’s face, he saw that he was doing the exact same thing- his eyes wandering over Will’s body, raking down his form to trace over his thighs and calves, which shapes were perfectly revealed by the thin tights he wore.  His cheeks grew warm, but it wasn’t a blush of embarrassment.  No, this feeling was something else.  His heart beat stronger, not faster, and a warmth was spreading through him that made him feel as if he were glowing softly from the inside.

         So enraptured with Hannibal and his music was he that it took him perhaps half an hour, or longer, to notice the bells that hung above Hannibal’s head.  They were of different sizes and hung on a string, but they rang of their own accord, their pure ringing notes complimenting the song Hannibal played exactly.  Will stared up at them with awe, knowing that Hannibal was somehow playing them as well.  But unlike with all the other freakish magic he’d encountered in this place, this soothed him rather than frightened him. 

         He closed his eyes and simply listened, letting the music wash over him and through him, letting Hannibal chase all the awfulness of Santa away, all the shittiness from his father, from his life, until he was nothing but part of the music himself; nothing but a part of Hannibal’s song.

         He sensed a shift in the shadows and opened his eyes to see that Hannibal had stood.  The harp continued to play, the same song Hannibal had been playing, or was still playing.  Will rose to meet him, and Hannibal held out his hand with a slight bow.  With his cheeks glowing brightly Will realized he was being asked to dance, for the first time in his life.

         He took Hannibal’s hand without hesitation.  His fingers closed around his hand warmly, firmly, and pulled him close until their chests were touching.  Hannibal’s other hand slid gently along his side to his back, where his palm pressed gently against the small of Will’s spine, pulling him close.

         Will melted into his touch, his body easily following Hannibal’s lead as he gently led them in a slow circle, paced to the melody of the harp.  Their eyes locked on each other again, and Will became lost in them; searching for the stars that he knew glowed inside whenever it was dark enough.  He could see them faintly, even in this brightly-lit room, points of white brilliance deep in Hannibal’s eyes.  He thought he could get lost in them forever; his mind lost to the music, his body lost to Hannibal’s touch. 

         He was warm and so very confident, in a way that made Will feel something he’d thought he’d forgotten how to feel.  Safe.

         It was impossible to tell who tilted his head first; who made the first move forward.  Will felt Hannibal’s breath pour over his lips as they drew close; saw his eyes change from darting over his face to gaze at his mouth.  The first touch was nothing more than a light brush, soft and fleeting.  With it a spark flew down Will’s spine and he leaned in with much more confidence.  Hannibal’s lips met his, just as warm and sure as the rest of him.  He opened them a bit and closed again, sliding them over Will in a gentle but eager kiss. 

         Then it was another kiss, then another; each of them parting their lips just slightly, just enough to moisten each other’s lips, to taste each other’s breath.  Will’s heart went from beating strong to racing in his chest; the glow in his cheeks spread to become a blush in his ears, his neck, his shoulders, his fingertips.  While they kissed Hannibal continued to hold Will close, his hand pressed gently but firmly against his back, holding their bodies close.

         Eventually they parted, and Will was delighted to see a blush in Hannibal’s cheeks as well.  He was panting, if only slightly, and Will pressed his entire body close, moving his free hand around his back to pull him near.  He could feel his heartbeat, racing as fast as Will’s, and the knowledge that Will affected him in this same way almost turned him to butter.  He melted into Hannibal, resting his head upon his shoulder as they slowly rocked together, bodies held close, pulses racing in synchrony, everything matched in time to the song that played on Hannibal’s harp.


	11. Chapter 11

         The walk home after shift end was different this time.  Rather than feeling shy about reaching for Hannibal’s hand, Will couldn’t wait to clasp it.  They walked slowly among the rush of other elves, not eager to get home as they were already in the company they sought.

         Will dreamily leaned his head on Hannibal’s shoulder and glanced up at the stars as they walked, letting Hannibal guide the way.

         “What is on your mind, Dear Will?”

         “You play instruments.” he said.

         “Yes, I quite enjoy it.”

         “How does that help Santa meet the quota for Christmas, exactly?”

         “Why, I tune them, of course.” Hannibal said.  “And test their tone and resonance.  It requires a true musician to be able to discern a well-made instrument from one of lesser quality.  The Testing department wouldn’t suffice.”

         Will snorted while he smiled.

         “You’re a Tester, but only for instruments.”

         “I am many things.”

         “Yes, and a painter…of forgeries?”

         “Copies.  The recipients are perfectly aware they are not originals.”

         “You mean the children who get them as gifts?”

         “Not everyone whom receives Santa’s gifts are children.” Hannibal said, their leisurely pace taking them down a more remote street, nearly at the place where the lonely path branched off towards Hannibal’s house.

         “Adults receive gifts from Santa?”

         “All that is required is that they believe in him.”

         Will gave a derisive snort and looked straight ahead into the dense, dark pine trees.

         “Not _all_   that’s required.” he spat.  “They also have to be ‘good enough’.”

         Hannibal didn’t reply immediately.  Instead he tightened his fingers around Will’s and pulled his arm a bit closer.

         “Yes, there is that unfortunate caveat.”

         “You don’t agree with it either.”

         Hannibal stopped, halfway down the path to his house, a place where he often stopped, Will was learning.  It was the darkest part of the path; hardly lit by a lone string of Christmas lights along the ground, and Will could see the stars in his eyes at their brightest.

         “Will.” he said, lifting a hand to cup Will’s cheek.  Will closed his eyes and leaned into it; feeling the warmth of him, his mind replaying their kiss in the basement of Santa’s workshop, his heart beating faster as he hoped for another.

         When one didn’t come he opened his eyes and looked into the light of Hannibal’s gaze.

         “You are far beyond merely ‘good enough’.  You are exquisitely beautiful, in a way such as I have never seen.  I loathe any system of judgement that says differently.”

         Will’s heart lurched with emotion, and the only way he could express it was to lean in and press his lips to Hannibal’s.  He leaned into it and wrapped his arms around Will’s back, the two of them standing perfectly still, in close embrace, in the darkest part of Santa’s town, enjoying the feel of each other’s lips, the taste of each other’s breath.

         When they pulled apart, Will enjoyed seeing the blush across Hannibal’s cheeks.

         “I supposed this will make living together a little different.”

         “Only as different as you want it to be.”

         Will gave Hannibal a sweet smile and led him towards the house, pulling him along by the hand that they held. 

         “Would you sit next to me during dinner?” Will asked, shaking the snow from his pointy shoes as he crossed the threshold.

         “It would be my pleasure.” Hannibal said.

 

* * *

         By now, Will was certain that Hannibal didn’t sleep.  He had never gotten another bed; instead the bedroom of their two-room house became Will’s room, and Hannibal never entered it without knocking first.  Whenever Will emerged to the sound of the pre-shift bells he would find Hannibal already awake, dressed, and cooking breakfast. 

         The smile that he had for Will was bigger now.  Will found his returning one was just the same; a smile that went straight to his eyes and lit his cheeks up with a blush.  He ducked into the bathroom and took longer to make himself ready, trimming his beard more carefully than he normally did, trying to make his unruly curls fall in a pattern that looked like anything but a straggled mess. 

         He was self-conscious stepping out of the bathroom now in nothing but a robe, and ducked his head and rushed to his bedroom without so much as glancing at Hannibal.  He even took more time to put the elf-costume on properly, rather than just throwing it on in disgust, and for a brief moment, considered wearing the stupid hat.  The moment passed.

         “How did you sleep?” Hannibal said when he walked out into the living space, the smell of pancakes and sausage making his stomach growl.

         “Little restless.” he said.

         “Oh?” Hannibal said, turning to face him.  Will gave a shy glance to the floor.

         “I had a lot more on my mind than usual.”

         “I see.” Hannibal said, but the spark in his eyes was there, and Will felt his heart do a little flip at the sight of it.  Hannibal served the pancakes and sausage onto two plates and brought them over.  When he leaned down to set Will’s in front of him, Will leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.  It had the lovely effect of making Hannibal pause in his motions, if only for a half of a second.

         He then sat across Will and gave him a smile.

         “Shall I be expecting more such surprises in the coming day?” Hannibal asked, pouring syrup over his pancakes.

         “Dunno.  Depends if I see you at all.” Will said.  “You know how you disappear, and refuse to tell me where you go…”

         “If my daily tasks permit, will make it a point to visit you, then.  Not today, though tomorrow, perhaps.  I’d like to meet this Abigail friend of yours as well.”

         Will smiled brightly then.  They continued their breakfast with their usual banter, though it was more openly flirtatious now, which Will found he really, really enjoyed.

* * *

         “So, turns out you might have been right.” Will said, squinting over a magnifying glass as he tried to fit a tiny screw into the motor he was working on.

         “About what?” Abigail asked him, engrossed in her own work, neither turning to look at each other as they spoke.

         “I kissed Hannibal last night.”

         He heard the clatter of tools and parts dropping onto her workbench and then the tight clasp of her arms as they wrapped around him in a hug.  He dropped the screw and found he didn’t care, laughing as her hug prevented him from moving.

         “Ooooooh, I knew it!  I knew it I knew it I knew it! You guys will be the first Invited couple that I’ll get to see!” she said.  “And not just anyone, but _Hannibal_!  I don’t believe it!”

         “’But Hannibal?’” Will asked, finally managing to squirm out of her grasp so he could face her.

         “Oh, shoot, don’t be insulted!  I didn’t meant it like, that, oh I’m so sorry, Hannibal’s just perfect, there’s nothing wrong with him!  He’s just….you know.”

         Will raised an eyebrow.

         Abigail bit her lower lip and wrung her hands together, clearly feeling guilty for her unintended faux-pas.

         “It’s only that…well.  He’s so _old_.  Almost an original.  And nobody his age is still single anymore.  We all thought he was, you know.  Well.  Not interested.”

         Will took a seat on his work stool and set his tools down.  He feigned a hurt expression; perhaps it was a bit manipulative, but he knew he could get answers out of Abigail much more easily than he’d ever get any out of Hannibal.

         “What do you mean by ‘almost an original’?” Will asked.  Abigail looked a little relieved that Will wasn’t outwardly upset, and she leapt at the change in topic.

         “Well, the original elves are the ones who came into being, on that first Christmas all those years ago, when the Christmas spirit became so strong with Saint Nicholas that he became magical.”

         Will furrowed his eyebrows and nodded, still finding it hard to completely believe in such magic, even when it surrounded him all day.

         “How many elves were there then?”

         “Oh, well a _lot_ less.  Christmas spirit has grown so much since then!  So many more people on the Earth, so many more hearts to strengthen the magic!”

         “Right.”

         Then Abigail tilted her eyes up towards the ceiling and began to speak in a sing-song voice, the way a child in school would recite a lesson they had been taught to remember.

         “The Original Elves counted eighteen and twelve.  Michael and Sarah were makers of bells. Helen and Philip were crafters of dolls, Peter and Aggie carved horses and stalls.  Bedelia’s gifts were in finding the skills, Dorothy’s gifts were…”

         Will listened carefully while he listened to Abigail’s recitation.  He thought he recognized some of the names…Bedelia, most definitely, though he wasn’t about to go to _her_ for any answers.  Then there was Peter…but that was such a common name…

         Abigail finished, her eyes lowering to meet Will’s with expectation.

         “You said it perfectly, without a single pause.” he said.  She smiled brightly at him, and he decided that making Abigail smile was one of his favorite things to do.

         “Do you know which of the original elves are still alive?” he asked.

         “Oh, of course.  There’s another poem about that…”

         “No, just tell me.”

         She laughed, looking relieved.

         “Oh good, because I never get it right.  Remembering what year each one died is so difficult.  As for who is still alive, there’s Bedelia, of course…and Elaine, and Katheryn, and Peter…”

         “Peter from Testing?”

         “Yes, that’s him!” she said, with a smile.  “He used to be in charge of caring for the reindeer, until he had an unfortunate incident where he was kicked in the head by one.  Not just at any time, but during Christmas takeoff, when the reindeer are flooded with magic and power.  He hasn’t been quite right in the head since.”

         Though Will knew Abigail was only reciting a story she’d heard to him, he didn’t doubt that it was the truth. 

         They both noticed the foreman giving them a harsh stare at the same time; they’d spent too much time chatting, and they both turned back to their work.  While he worked Will’s mind was busy figuring out how he could talk to Peter alone.  He knew the elf was friendly and always happy to have a conversation, but for what he wanted to ask, he didn’t want any other ears listening.

         The lunch bell rang, and Will had a hunch that Peter didn’t like eating in the noisy cafeteria any more than he did.  He walked the empty halls towards Testing, his pointed shoes silent as they walked up the five stone steps to the main door of the testing department.

         He pushed it open and saw chaos.  There were toys of every variety, in every state of completion strewn about an enormous room.  Everything from train sets to bicycles to delicate porcelain dolls were laid about in a haphazard fashion.  There were work benches, but Will could make no sense of whatever organization there might have been to the madness.

         Within the chaos, he saw movement.  Several elves were there, four or five, all far from each other in the large room.  There was the noise of a doll talking as its string was pulled, then the singing of a baby’s toy as its button was pushed. 

         Will walked through the mess, no one paying much attention to him.  Most of the work looked like it had been put down for lunch.  He glanced at each of the hunched-over elves, looking for Peter.  He finally found him in the furthest corner, staring out the lone, small window in this enormous room.  He looked contemplative; though Will wondered what he could be looking at, as there was nothing outside but the darkness.

         He didn’t want to startle him, so he shuffled his feet a bit and made sure to brush against a few toys as he approached.  Peter turned his head only when Will was practically next to him.  His contemplative face lit up with a bright smile.

         “Will!  I don’t have any motors for you to repair right now.” he said.

         “That’s okay.  I actually came to just talk.”

         “Talk?  To me?”

         The phrase made Will’s heart ache a bit.  He saw a free stool and pulled it over so he could sit down next to Peter.

         “Yeah, is that okay?  I don’t want to interrupt your lunch break.”

         “Oh, I’ve already eaten.” he said.  “I don’t like the cafeteria.  Too loud.”

         Will laughed.

         “Same here.”

         Peter gave him a smile, then turned his face to look out the window again with a wistful expression.

         “What are you looking at?”

         “The reindeer stalls.” he said, a deep sigh in his voice.  “I used to take care of them.  I still visit them, every day after work.”

         “Why don’t you take care of them anymore?” Will asked.  Peter sighed again, and tilted his head, pointing to a large scar.

         “Got kicked.” he said.  “They say it’s because the reindeer don’t trust me.  But that wasn’t the reason, that’s not what happened.  No one ever listens to what happened.”

         “I’m listening.” Will said, forgetting about his other motive for now, his heart wanting nothing more than to make things right for this gentle elf.

         Peter gave him a sad smile.

         “That’s nice of you.” he said.  “What happened was that I told them to run.  They were in danger.”

         Will frowned, trying to understand.

         “In danger?  From what?”

         “From the shadow monsters.” Peter said, turning to look out the window again, putting his fingers on the window sill.  His breath fogged up the glass on each exhale, only to clear it when he breathed in again.

         “Monsters?  Plural?” Will asked.  “I thought there was only one?”

         “There is only one _now_.” Peter said.  “There used to be more.  Lots more.  Santa killed them.  Santa protects us, keeps us safe from the darkness.  Now there is only one.”

         Will’s eyes drifted to the wooden panels of the wall as he tried to process this.

         “When did this happen, Peter?”

         “Oh, a long time ago.  Very long time ago.  When we first came, they were everywhere.  They ate us.  They live in the darkness, and we’re made of light.  They didn’t like it.  Tried to kill us.  But the humans kept feeling the Christmas spirit, in their hearts.  It made us strong.” Peter said, holding up a fist to his heart and pressing it there.  “Santa was able to fight the monsters.  Able to build our town and fill it with light.  Able to keep them out.”

         Will frowned as he tried to put the pieces together.  The monster that had eaten his father had _definitely_ been afraid of Santa.  Just the sound of his bells had chased it off. 

         “Then one Christmas Eve, the monsters got close to the reindeer.  Santa’s magic wasn’t nearly as strong in those early days; they were able to get close, even on Christmas Eve. I had already harnessed the reindeer to the sleigh.  Santa was already in it; the gifts loaded on.  The shadows came running, and I told Dasher to _run_.”

         Peter’s eyes grew watery as he told the memory, and Will’s heart ached for him.  “I told Dasher to run.  He didn’t want to listen, because I was in the way.  But I love him more than I love myself.  I swatted his flank; I _made_ him run.  Then there were hooves trampling me; one kicked me in the head.  The shadow monsters came; they came but the reindeer flew.  They got away; they were safe.”

         Will furrowed his eyebrows. 

         “After that, we went to war with the shadow monsters.  A lot of us died.  They had powerful magic; ancient magic.  But Santa’s magic was stronger.  He destroyed all the monsters in our town, all of them except one.  One got away.  But Santa was able to make the light shine bright enough to keep it out.  It can’t get us in the light.  We’re safe.  The reindeer are safe.”

         Peter lifted up a hand and pressed his palm to the glass of the window.  It was impossible not to feel sorry for him. 

         “There were so few of us left.  We thought that was the end of Christmas.  But then the Christmas spirit grew even more; and with its magic came new elves.  Born from the light, to replace the ones who had fallen.  Most of them are still with us.  Your Hannibal is one of those.  And your friends, Beverly and Jimmy and Brian.”

         Will sat up straighter at the mention of Hannibal’s name.  Maybe he would get the answers he’d been seeking after all, simply by sitting and letting Peter talk.

         “What was Hannibal like, when you met him?” Will asked.

         “Oh, so talented.  So very talented.  Bedelia had such a hard time with him.  He was never happy in just one job, because he could do them all.”  Peter frowned, thinking.  “I can’t remember what she finally found for him.  But he settled down.  It’s okay now.”

         Will opened his mouth to ask more things, but then the lunch bell rang.  Peter leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the glass, his eyes staring wistfully out in the direction of the stables.  Will rose and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

         “Don’t be sad, Peter.” he said.  “You saved Christmas that year.  You made it stronger.  You’re a hero.”

         Peter turned and gave Will a genuine, happy smile, and Will smiled back, his heart glowing with a warmth that was becoming slowly more and more familiar.

         “Thank you for listening, Will.”

         “It was my pleasure.”

* * *

         Will mulled over the things he had learned about Hannibal and the history of the elves while he hunched over his workbench, trying to find a screw that would fit the pull-back motor of a tiny matchbox car.  Every story he heard seemed to have different bits to it, which of course was perfectly normal for any small town; but still he couldn’t help the feeling that _nobody_ he spoke to knew very much about Hannibal at all.

         The fact that they all thought he was an elf, when Hannibal told Will he wasn’t, was the most striking difference. 

         He wondered if even Santa knew the truth. 

         There was only one way to learn that, however.

         “Screw that.” he said, slamming his pliers down on the workbench.  He was never going to talk to that pompous red asshole ever again, if he had any say about it.

         Nobody in the workshop turned around at his outburst; it was common for elves to get frustrated with uncooperative motors.  He hunched forward and stared at nothing, letting his eyes unfocus in the light of his workbench, trying to fit the pieces together.

         There was something obvious he was missing; something right in front of his face that he couldn’t see because of all this _Christmas_ stuff in the way.

         His mind was still stuck on this thought when the end-of-day shift bell rang.  The bustle of elves rushing to get home moved him along, caught up in the current of the river, bodies covered in candy-cane stripes and jingle bells pushing him along until he was out the door of the workshop and walking down the steps into the snow as he always did, every day.

         “Hey, Will!” Beverly shouted, cheerfully waving her hand in the air so he could see them.  He didn’t want to deal with their cheer just now.  He made no move to head towards them, but they pushed their way through the crowd, winding up at his sides, their rosy cheeks and happy smiles obscuring his vision.

         “Will, we heard a rumor that you kissed Hannibal, is it true?”

         “If it is, that would be maybe one of the fastest first kisses ever from an Invited.”

         “Which was why we’re thinking it might just have been a rumor.”

         “So we decided to come straight to the source, and as you in person.”  
         Will turned them out.  He marched forward, his eyes scanning the crowd for the only thing he wanted to see right now.

         There he was, standing motionless, unaffected by the tide that flowed past him.  His eyes looked up the hill and burned into Will’s, as steady as the North Star itself, unmoving in the tumult of rushing elves that churned about him.

         Will walked steadily towards him, not allowing his pace to be hastened by the pushing elves.  His posse followed, glee in their voices as they saw the intensity with which Will marched towards Hannibal.  But as he neared they held back, whispering to each other to let the new couple have their space.

         “Will.”

         “Hannibal.”

         Their gazes locked, and in the light of the crowd of elves around them, Will could hardly see the stars in Hannibal’s eyes at all.  He moved forward, until their faces were so close their noses almost brushed, peering into Hannibal’s irises with purpose.

         He knew what he needed to do, regardless of the risk.  He had to get Hannibal away from all this glare that was drowning _something_ out.  He needed to get him free from all this Christmas light.  He needed to get him into the darkness.

         “Shall we walk home, Will?” Hannibal asked, extending his hand towards Will with an open palm, inviting him to hold it.  Will raised his hand slowly; Hannibal looking at him with curiosity, not oblivious to the change in Will’s demeanor as they clasped fingers.

         As they headed down the hill away from the workshop, Will could hear the chattering of their three elf friends behind them, eagerly discussing this development.  Neither Will nor Hannibal spoke; the crowd of elves thinning out a bit as the road widened and entered the place where it cut through the forest of darkened trees, just before the town.

         Will looked to his left, where Hannibal walked on the edge of the road, atop a small cliff.  Below them stretched out thousands of snow-covered pine trees; not one of them lit, their branches blocking the light from Santa’s workshop and town, obscuring the ground beneath their branches.

         “If you have so decided, Will.” Hannibal said, not missing that Will was eyeing the cliff and Hannibal’s feet.  He walked along the edge on purpose, then.  He was so far over it that one of his feet stepped beyond the string of Christmas lights, beyond their glare, and in the instant that it was within the darkness, Will saw.

         He saw the elf shoe vanish like the illusion it was, replaced by a black, deadly claw.  The candy-cane striped tights were replaced by an equally dark, black shin; sinewy muscle flexing in the darkness, unobscured by the Christmas lights.

         With Hannibal’s next step his foot was back within the light, and looked like any normal elf foot.  Will’s eyes rose to meet his, and Hannibal stopped walking, putting his back to the forest below as he faced Will.

         “I have so decided.” Will said.  “I need to _see_ you.”

         Hannibal’s gaze did not waiver.

         “Then see me.”

         Will lifted his arms to wrap them around Hannibal’s neck.  He leaned in for a kiss, his heart leaping unexpectedly when Hannibal returned it.  The trio of elves squealed with delight, which turned to screams of horror when Will pushed forward and Hannibal leaned back.  The pair of them toppled willingly over the edge of the snowy cliff and into the darkness, the branches of the pine trees rushing past them, the snow raining down upon them as they fell.


	12. Chapter 12

         Will landed in the deep snow with a thud, its softness making his fall almost comfortable.  Santa’s magic must still have penetrated here, as it took him a moment to even realize that the snow his face was pressed into was cold.  He raised himself up, shaking off the loose snow that had fallen from the branches above him, and stood.

         It was dark.  He could discern little more than the trunks of pine trees; much taller than he’d realized, only their tops poking above the cliff he’d fallen from.  Down here he was below all of their branches, leaving him in a forest of black trunks and nothing more.

         It was silent.  Though he knew the elves above him were making all kinds of ruckus, he could hear none of it.  He blew air through his lips just to reassure himself he could still _hear_ , and felt a bit of relief when he heard the sound.

         He was alone.  Hannibal had not landed near him, or anywhere that he could see.  He saw no tracks in the snow.  There was no disturbance other than the imprint from his fall, and a few circles from snow bunches he’d knocked from the trees above him.

         As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he was able to see a bit more.  Behind him was the cliff; a rocky, icy thing that he had no way of climbing back up.  Not that he intended to.  He’d come down here for a reason, and he wasn’t leaving until he got his answers.

         He heard a rustling and snapped his head in that direction.  The sound was soft and short-lived, and it was impossible to tell which direction it had come from.  He could see nothing but tree trunks in every direction but the cliff, not a breath of wind disturbing the stillness that smothered the floor of the pine forest.

         He heard the rustling again, and this time was more certain of the direction.  He peered into the darkness and saw movement.  Shadows moving amongst shadows, but Will walked forward, each of his steps sinking up to his knees in the snow, making his progress extremely slow and cumbersome.  He inched forward towards the moving shadow.

         After he’d made some progress he saw it again, just as far as he had been before.  He changed his course to follow it, his heart beating hard in his chest at the anticipation and fear of what he was going to find. 

         Will pressed onward, trudging through the snow much as he had that first day he’d come to the North Pole; only now there was no wind, no snow, no cold, and no light.  He walked until the cliff disappeared behind him, until he was surrounded by nothing but trees on all sides, as far as he could see. 

         Then ahead of him, the shadow stopped moving ahead, and waited for him.  He could still see it; the outline of what looked like a man, as black as the trunks of the trees that stood beside it.  He pressed onward, the shadow now drawing closer, and as Will moved slowly towards it he became able to discern more of its shape.

         It indeed had two legs and two arms, though it was much taller than a man, and was blacker than anything else Will could see.  In fact, he realized, he couldn’t really _see_ it; what he was looking at was the hole it made in the slightly lighter background of the forest, blocking out the view of the trees beyond it.

         As he drew near, his eyes were able to discern that the branches above its towering head were not branches at all, but antlers.  Proud and sturdy they rose form its head at least two feet, branching as they went, similar to a deer’s antlers but straighter and more deadly, with sharpened points at the ends.

         Will froze when he realized what he saw.  Its back was to him, so he did not see the white eyes, but he already knew.  His eyes traced down the arms towards where hands should be and instead found deadly claws; claws that he had seen slice through his father’s flesh as it ate him; claws that left gouges in the wooden floor of his house when it scrambled up the chimney from whence it came.

         It wasn’t moving, and Will knew he was being given a choice.  He could turn around now, follow his tracks back to the cliff, and look for a way back up it.  Crawl back into the light of the elves and be with Hannibal until the year was over, until it was Christmas, and go back home.

         He stepped forward.  He walked as confidently as his nerves and the deep snow would allow him, until he was close enough to see the talons of the feet, sharp and deadly, standing atop the snow, not sinking within it even an inch.

         “Hannibal.” Will said, his voice seeming loud though he spoke barely above a whisper; the only sound in this place except for his own footprints.

         “Yes.” he said, the voice low and predatory, but also very familiar.  It was without any doubt Hannibal’s voice.

         It was also the voice of a monster.

         “It was you in my cabin.  It was you who ate my father.”

         Hannibal tilted his head to the side, in a mannerism that was so very _him_ that it put Will at ease, even as his instincts told him to be afraid.  The antlers shifted, brushing the branches above them just slightly.

         “It was my delight to grant your wish, Will.” Hannibal said, his voice low and predatory. 

         Will froze in place at the admission, fear creeping its way into his blood as the memory of that night came back to him with perfect clarity.  Him peering through the doorway at the sight of his father’s body half-eaten, a beast hunched over it, it’s teeth dripping with blood.  Of it looking at him, with its white glowing eyes, and it making a move as if to come towards him.

         “Were you going to eat me next?”

         “No.”

         The answer came so quickly that Will found it hard to reconcile it with the beast that had roared so loud it had knocked him over, then curled back on its haunches as if to pounce upon him.

         “I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life.” Hannibal confessed, the back of his head tilting just a hair as he spoke, the only indication that he was something alive.  “I wanted to be near you.  I wanted to gaze at you further; but I am not permitted.  The roar was of my frustration.”

         Will didn’t need to ask who it was that granted or did not grant Hannibal permission.

         “You aren’t an elf, but you’re enslaved to Santa just the same.”

         “Yes.”

         Rage boiled up in Will’s veins.  The creature that stood before him was beautiful; raw in its power; something that should never be caged or tamed or controlled.  He closed his eyes and once again relived his father being eaten, then saw its face as it looked at him.

         “Look at me.” Will said.  “I came here so I could _see_ you.”

         He saw Hannibal hesitate.  Saw him begin to turn and then stop, and his heart beat faster as he realized just how much he meant to him.  Just how important it was to him that Will not run.

         “Hannibal, I have been trying since the day I met you to see your eyes again.  I have been trying; but the Christmas light washes them out.  Now we’re safely in the darkness.  Let me see.”

         Will’s body trembled with fear as the great beast in front of him began to turn.  But his mind was enraptured; his eyes studying the face as it became visible to him; the high cheek bones, the chiseled nose and jaw, the hardness of the flesh. 

         When Hannibal’s eyes came into his vision, Will could do nothing else but stare at them.  They were not the solid white he had remembered, but more a cluster of brilliant stars, so many that from far away they would indeed look uniform.  Will stepped closer, drawn in by their beauty, the stars of the night sky shining out from Hannibal’s face, hints of blues and purples dotted amongst the white.      “I could stare forever.” Will whispered, awe-struck. 

         Hannibal’s response was to open his mouth.  It opened wide, wider than any human mouth, revealing rows of razor-sharp, black teeth that Will had seen slice through flesh with ease.  Will stepped forward until he was only an inch from Hannibal’s face and reached up a palm to rest it on his face.  The skin was as hard as stone; and when Will touched him he could _feel_ how cold it was; here in the darkness, Santa’s magic could not keep Will from knowing the truth.

         Slowly, Will traced his thumb down Hannibal’s face, over his cheek and along his jaw.  With the entire night sky gazing at him and a maw of death open towards him, Will slid his thumb along the edges of Hannibal’s mouth.  There were no lips there; only the end of his face and the beginning of his teeth.  Will slipped his thumb into that mouth, feeling the edges of the teeth, taking care to stay away from the tips of them.

         Hannibal’s mouth closed slowly, and Will did not pull his thumb away.  Instead he felt the flesh of the inside of him soften, supple and alive, and gasped when he felt a tongue flick at the tip of his finger.  When the mouth was nearly closed Will reached up his other arm to wrap it around Hannibal’s neck and pull himself up so that he could press his lips to that mouth. 

         Hannibal’s arms wrapped around Will, holding him up high enough, and Will pressed forward into a full kiss.  He pulled his thumb out and felt Hannibal’s mouth open and brush over his lips, then felt his breath as he exhaled, ice-cold as it washed over Will’s face and down his neck.  Will pulled back to gaze into the stars of Hannibal’s eyes again.

         “I could kill you instantly, at any time.” Hannibal said.

         “And yet here I am, not dead.”

         Hannibal snorted and Will gave him a smile before he leaned in for another kiss.  This time Hannibal pushed his mouth forward, crushing it to Will’s, his tongue emerging to lick over his lips and taste him.  Will reveled in how Hannibal tasted; nothing at all like the candy-canes and ginger of the Christmas that always surrounded them.  Instead he tasted like ice; like frozen, splintered lakes and shattered, brittle snow.

         When they pulled back again Will realized that he was being entirely held by Hannibal, like a bride held by his groom about to cross the threshold.

         “There is more I desire for you to see.” Hannibal said.  Will gave a simple nod and then he was being carried; Hannibal’s long, powerful legs taking wide strides across the top of the snow.  He didn’t sink within it or mark it at all.  The pace he took was purposeful, a steady, long stride that made the trees fly past them even as Hannibal was only walking.  Will leaned his head upon Hannibal’s shoulder; though it was as hard and cold as ice he sighed with comfort and serenity.

         Then ahead of them, Will saw light.  Not the garish light of the Christmas elves, but a clean, white light that was pure and real.  He lifted his head to see ahead of them not a forest, but a vast tundra of bare ice and snow, a sea of frozen rocks and craggy mountains to the left, and a wide, flat expanse of frozen plain extending to the horizon on the right.  There was not a tree, not a shrub, not a single living thing in sight.  It was perfect; undisturbed by humans, beasts, or elves. Above it he saw the stars, as he was very familiar with now, and hanging amongst them was something he hadn’t seen in a long time. 

         The moon.

         It’s light was what caused the snow to seem to glow, such a bright white it almost hurt Will’s eyes to look at.

         Hannibal stopped.  The forest of pine trees ended abruptly, at an unnaturally perfect line, and Hannibal halted when he reached it, not stepping one claw into the glowing, frozen tundra.  He lowered Will to the snow, where he sank in his stupid pointy shoes up to his knees, making his head reach no higher than Hannibal’s waist.  He hardly cared.  His eyes were transfixed upon the beauty that shined before him, a land such that he was certain very few, if any people had ever seen.

         “ _There_ is the Winter.” Hannibal said, gesturing with a sweeping claw out to the endless expanse of white snow.  Will could see gusts of wind stirring it up in swirls, the whiteness being reflected by the moon so that the snow shined before it settled once again.  “This is how it was before Santa Claus came, and this is how it shall be after he is long gone.”

         Will drew his eyes over the gleaming icy mountains, and imagined Hannibal living there among them, free to do as he pleased.

         “It’s beautiful.” Will said.  He lifted a foot to take a step forward.  A powerful claw clasped his shoulder and held him back with an iron grip.

         “You cannot.” Hannibal said.  He pointed to the ground, and for the first time Will looked down at his feet.  Inches in front of them was a searing, glowing amber line, seemingly drawn right upon the snow.  Will followed it with his eyes and saw that it was what stopped the trees…or rather, stopped the Winter from killing the trees.  It went on for a long way, but did not stretch to the horizon.  Will could see that it curved, in an enormous circle, enclosing them and the entire elf village within.

         “This is where the Christmas magic ends.” Will said.

         “Correct.”

         Will’s eyes followed the line back along the trees to his feet, then he lifted his head and looked out beyond, to the seemingly endless frozen land.

         “I know what will happen to me if I step beyond this line.  I’ll freeze to death, perhaps in a matter of minutes.  But what is stopping you?” Will said, turning to look at Hannibal’s body, naked and black and powerful, his antlers rising above his head to block some stars from Will’s view.

         “The Christmas magic is powerful, as you can see.” Hannibal said, gesturing to the thin glowing line.  “It can stop Winter itself, which is much stronger than I.  My brethren and I did not know it then, but we stood no chance against the magic of Christmas.  When we fought Santa Claus after he appeared, eventually each one of us was slaughtered.  Now only I remain.”

         Will’s face was still as he imagined the deathly brawl that must have ensued; a pack of terrible monsters verses the terrifying being that called itself Santa Claus. 

         “How did you survive?”

         “Once I saw that I was alone, I knew further battle would be my demise.  That made my only option for survival a treaty of some kind.  I waited to approach Santa when he was alone, to give him the freedom to accept my offer, without losing face in front of his elves.  I proposed that if he stopped hunting me, I would stop harming his elves.”

         Even on the face that hardly moved, Will could see the expression of disdain on Hannibal’s features.

         “He replied, ‘Even if you keep your word, what use are you to me alive?’  You would only be a constant danger, ever hovering in the back of my mind; how long until you go back on your word and I lose another helper?”

         Will’s fingers clenched into fists and anger flared within him. 

         “Then I understood.  And I said ‘Then I can make you gain a helper instead.  Let me become one of your own; I will work for you, you can keep watch over all I do, and you will know the moment I step out of our agreement.’”

         “You sold yourself into slavery.”

         “To survive.”

         For a long moment, neither spoke.  They stared out into the abyss of the Winter, the wind blowing the snow through the moonlight, little crystals of ice reflecting it into dancing rainbows that faded back into the whiteness.

         “At first I struggled.  I was in an unfamiliar body, surrounded by unfamiliar sounds and sights and smells.  Everything was hideous to me, and I was hungry.”

         “He didn’t feed you?”

         Hannibal turned his face towards Will so quickly he involuntarily jumped.  The black face with beautiful eyes peered into him, gazing into him, searching for something.

         “My diet is very selective.” he said, and Will frowned, trying to connect the dots.  He saw Hannibal eat every day.  Every day they ate together, the food that came from his magical cabinet that was always empty until he opened it. 

         Then he realized that what he saw probably wasn’t what was actually there, the same way Hannibal’s body looked like an elf within the Christmas light.  He frowned, thinking.  The only way he could know was if he saw Hannibal eat something outside of the Christmas light…

         Which he had.

         In his house.

         On his floor.

         “Have you been feeding me…?”

         “You have eaten your father, yes.”

         Will didn’t actually intend to retch.  His body did it of its own accord, and he fought it down, forcing the vomit to stay in his stomach.  He clamped a hand over his mouth and his body shuddered while his eyes watered.  As horrified as he was, it would be worse still to contaminate this serene and perfect place.

         Hannibal didn’t move.  He stood deathly still as he watched Will struggling with his realization.  Will finally regained control over his body, leaning over with his hands on his knees, panting for air.

         When he was able to straighten up again, he had to ask the obvious question.

         “Why?”

         “I welcomed you into my home.  It would have been rude not to offer you something to eat.”

         “You couldn’t have borrowed actual bread from the neighbors?!”

         “I cannot reveal to them what I am.  That is part of my contract.”

         Will knew that was just the convenient answer.  He already knew the real answer.  Hannibal was hoping Will would stay with him.  Accept him.  Choose to be with him, knowing the full truth about him.

         There were gentler ways of doing it, but for Hannibal, Will supposed this was as gentle as he could get.  He’d been frustratingly secretive, giving Will only tiny hints, trying his best to ease him into the horrific truth.

         And now he knew.  Oh, he didn’t know everything.  There was so much that was still unanswered.  But he knew.

         “Santa still has to let you eat.” Will said. 

         “Yes.  But he decides.  I am directed who to eat.  I used to roam free, riding on the Winter winds, hunting in the forests and over the frozen lakes for those who had wandered too far from their homes and fires.  Winter and I used to dance, and together snatch up whomever we pleased.  But now, I am bound to the Christmas light.  I can only hunt on Christmas Eve, and only whom I am told to hunt.”

         Will couldn’t exactly see sadness on the strange and mystical face that he looked at, but it was there.  It was there, and it wasn’t right.  Hannibal was too beautiful to be caged.

         “Do you want to kill him?” Will said.

         “Yes.”

         The admission was so quick in coming and so powerful in its decisiveness that Will knew Hannibal had been craving to tell someone this desire for a long time.  Hannibal’s deep trust in him in saying so made Will try to move closer to him, only to find his feet entrapped in the deep snow.  He struggled against it anyway, until he was inches from Hannibal’s enormous body.

         For the first time since they’d stopped at the line, Hannibal moved.  He reached out a charcoal-black hand and pressed his palm to Will’s face, his deadly claws stroking gently through the curls of his hair.  He leaned down so that they were face-to-face, his neck bending farther than a neck should so that his antlers still remained pointed towards the sky, his eyes now inches from Will’s as their gazes burned into each other.

         “So do I.” Will said softly.  Hannibal’s strong arms wrapped around him powerfully and pulled him close.  Their kiss was crushing and desperate, Hannibal’s claws curling into Will’s hair until they sliced bits of it off which blew away in the wind.  His teeth nicked Will’s bottom lip and he bled, Hannibal’s tongue darting out to lick the red liquid before it could fall.

         “How do I taste?” Will whispered, his lips still pressed to Hannibal’s mouth.

         “Delicious.  I would devour you.”

         “Why don’t you?” Will asked, his cheeks flushed red, his pulse beating faster as he continued to kiss the deadly monster that held him in its grasp.

         “My desire to gaze upon you, to hear your voice, to taste you perpetually is stronger than my basal instinct for a meal.”

         Hannibal’s breath washed over Will as he spoke, over his cheeks and neck and down his throat, the chill of him raw and alive and _real_.  Will pushed his lips harder against him, his tongue emerging to push its way into Hannibal’s mouth, where it was nicked and began to bleed.  Hannibal sucked on it, pulling Will into him, tasting him, licking the drops.  Will moaned softly, his body melting into Hannibal’s hard chest, held fast by his powerful arms, unable to escape and unwanting to.

         They parted, each panting, Hannibal’s cold breath causing Will’s warm to fog between them.  Will gazed upon Hannibal with half-lidded eyes, his blood rushing through his veins, the beginnings of lust starting to stir within him.

         “We should return, before the elves worry enough to report us.” Hannibal said, and Will felt disappointment swell through him.

         “No, I want to know you.” he said, reaching out a hand to stroke it over Hannibal’s cheek.  He traced his fingers over the hardened high cheek bones and then down along his neck.  Hannibal closed his eyes, the glow of their stars vanishing to disappear within the blackness of his face, and Will heard a low, soft growl of pleasure.

         “And you shall.” Hannibal said, then opened his eyes.  “But not tonight.”

         Ignoring Will’s protest, Hannibal picked him up again, slipping one arm under his knees and the other behind his back.  Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck and planted kisses to his cheek and side of his neck as they walked, delighting when he heard the soft rumble deep in Hannibal’s chest.  He let his tongue graze outside the shell of his ear, his heart beating faster when he heard the soft gasp Hannibal made.

         “Do you ever sleep, Hannibal?” Will whispered as they walked back through the trees towards the cliff.  “I never see you in a bed.  If you don’t have one, you could share mine.”

         He felt Hannibal’s arms tense as they held him, and he walked a bit faster, until the cliff was rising up before them.  Will looked at the top of it and could see the glow of Christmas light now; a warm, shining orange-red that hovered over the entire town.

         When they reached it, Hannibal lifted Will easily above his head, until he was over ten feet off the ground.  Up here the cliff was craggier and he could find a footing, which he did.  He watched Hannibal race up the side of the cliff beside him on all fours, his claws making it easy for him to scale, and then he vanished over the top, disappearing from Will’s view.

         “Hannibal!” he heard Beverly cry, and then the jingle of three pairs of elf feet as they ran towards him.

         “I’m going to help Will, he’s just over that way!” he said.  It was his voice, but it wasn’t; it no longer had the deep, rumbling growl, but sounded only human, and Will’s heart cracked a bit.

         Then above him poked a head, and it was Hannibal’s face, but dressed as an elf, with warm, tan skin, flexible and soft, and the stars in his eyes nearly hidden.  Will still gazed into them as he reached out a hand, and Will clasped it firmly, sealing the promises they had made on the edge of Winter.


	13. Chapter 13

         It was strange seeing Hannibal as an elf again as they walked home together, hand-in-hand.  Will couldn’t stop staring at his face, his eyes tracing over his features, seeing the similarities between them and his other face.

         “I can still see you.” he said softly.  “You’re there.  Just covered up, wearing a meticulously constructed, very well-tailored elf suit.”

         “The magic only does as much as is necessary to hide what I am.  It doesn’t need to expend energy on hiding _who_ I am.”

         “And who is that, Hannibal?” Will asked, as they walked through the front door of their house, shaking the snow off their elf-shoes.  “I know I’ve only seen a fraction of your personality.”

         Once Will had gotten his shoes off he turned around to find Hannibal very close.  His hand came up to rest against Will’s cheek, and he blushed deeply, feeling Hannibal’s warm breath flow across his skin.

         “Would you like to get to know me better?” he asked, his face so close that Will could hardly keep his breaths steady.  Then he realized there was no point in trying.

         “Yes.” he replied softly, pushing their lips together.  They were different than the mouth full of razor-sharp teeth; and yet Will could still feel that this mouth was just as deadly.  When Hannibal opened it he sucked Will’s bottom lip in between his teeth, his tongue running over the supple skin, licking at the small wound he’d given him earlier until it bled.

         Will’s pulse beat harder in his ears and his blood started to gather between his legs.  He felt Hannibal’s arms wrap around his back and pull him close, until their chests were pressed together, and he could feel the warmth coming from his body.  It was entirely different from his other form; warm instead of cold, soft instead of hard, but it was still _Hannibal_ and Will melted in his arms.

         Hannibal’s hands traced along Will’s back, sliding down along his spine, bringing goosebumps to his skin and making him arch.  Hannibal moaned softly at his reaction, his hands sliding lower to caress Will’s ass over his tunic.

         Tingles spread up Will’s spine and heat bloomed in his ears.  Hannibal gave a gentle squeeze and Will groaned into his lips, rocking his hips forward, feeling Hannibal’s matching erection press against his.  Hannibal slid his hands lower, until his fingers were tickling along the thin tights covering Will’s legs, and then teased their way up, until he was caressing Will’s ass under his tunic, his hands warm through the thin tights and briefs he wore.

         “You know I’ve never been fond of these ridiculous clothes.” Will whispered into Hannibal’s mouth, dragging his fingers down over Hannibal’s shoulders, tracing them over his chest.  He pulled back from their kiss and Hannibal’s eyes burned into his, not leaving his face as Will’s hands moved down to the complicated belt around Hannibal’s waist.

         He was practiced enough at it now that he was able to undo it without removing his eyes from Hannibal’s heated stare.  The leather snapped as it slipped open and then fell to the floor, Hannibal’s tunic becoming loose around him, hiding his form, which Will didn’t care for. 

         He moved his hands down to Hannibal’s thighs, tracing over the thin tights, teasing him while Hannibal continued to massage his ass.  Will slipped his fingers under Hannibal’s tunic, pushing the green fabric up until he felt the warm, bare flesh of his sides.  He lifted higher, until he could feel the muscles of his abdomen and the ribs of his chest.  He continued pushing up, and only then did Hannibal relent his grasp on Will, letting go of him to raise his arms above his head and allow his tunic to be removed.

         It fell to the floor in a heap, and Will stepped back to stare. 

         Will’s eyes traced over his shoulders, which were wide and muscular.  His clavicle was pronounced and Will imagined running his tongue over it; something that seemed very close to being within the realm of possibility at this moment.  His pecs were defined and tight, his nipples perked from his lust.  The abs Will had felt were as muscular as he’d imagined; powerful and more deadly than he knew his eyes could see.

         Below that was the waistline of those hideous stripped tights; and through them pushed a large bulge, barely contained by the stretching fabric.  A hot blush spread across Will’s entire face and flamed to the tips of his ears, making him have to swallow to relieve his dry throat.

         “You have already seen me more naked than this.” Hannibal said, a tone of amusement in his voice.  “But I have yet to see any of you at all.”

         If it was possible, Will blushed deeper, subconsciously licking his lips until he tasted his own blood.

         “We should move to the bedroom.” Will said, his voice barely above a whisper through his heavy breath.

         “A most excellent proposition.” Hannibal agreed, reaching out his hand.  Will took it, the motion familiar, and allowed himself to be led through their small kitchen and sitting room into the bedroom, which had once belonged to Hannibal, and now belonged to Will.

         Will supposed soon it would belong to them both.

         Hannibal closed the door softly, then turned to face Will again, and he could no longer refrain from touching.  He reached out his hands and ran them over Hannibal’s stomach, tracing his fingers over his skin, sliding his palms up his sides.  He heard Hannibal’s sharp intake of air and it sent a sprig of pleasure through him, knowing that Hannibal was as affected by this as he was.

         Hannibal’s hands moved to undo Will’s belt, and Will concentrated on tracing Hannibal’s body with his eyes, touching him, learning him.  He felt the belt slip away and his tunic hang loose, the air of the room rushing up to tickle his skin.  Hannibal’s hands were under it and pushing it up, not hasty but not patient either, his fingers brushing against Will’s skin as he slid the hideous green fabric over his head and let it fall to the floor.

         When Will could see again, he saw Hannibal’s eyes staring at his erection, straining against the hideous striped tights, and he was done with them.  He was done with it all.

         He reached into the waist and pulled down, underwear and all, allowing his swelling erection to stand proud in the air of the room.  He kept his eyes on Hannibal as much as he could while he pulled the hideous things off, and so he didn’t miss the thick swallow Hannibal made as his eyes traced along Will’s length, over his hips, and down his thighs.

         “Your turn.” Will said, and Hannibal looked almost as if he’d been broken out of a trance before he moved to do the same.  Will licked his lips as he watched a thick, swollen cock emerge, and suddenly a very important question came to him.

         He waited until Hannibal was standing upright, wearing nothing now but his stupid elf hat.  Will would get rid of that in a moment, but first he had to know.  He stepped forward until their bodies were close again, their bare skin brushing against each other, their warm chests pressed together.  Will’s fingers traced up the side of Hannibal’s hip while he leaned his mouth forward to whisper in his ear.  His hand, more sure than he’d ever imagined it would be, brushed his fingers along Hannibal’s length, feeling the heat and weight of it.

         “Is it real?” he whispered softly, tracing his fingers softly along it, his heart racing as hard as it could in his chest.

         “Quite.” Hannibal replied, his voice cracking as he spoke, his chin lowering to rest on Will’s shoulder as his arms wrapped around his back.

         “I didn’t see it when we were in the darkness; and you were naked.”

         Hannibal gave a soft chuckle.

         “Were you diligently searching?”

         “It was one of the things I was looking for, yes.  I couldn’t help but be in awe at the beauty of you.”

         Hannibal moved a finger under Will’s chin and pushed it up, roughly capturing him in a deep kiss.  His tongue slid into his mouth and tasted, darting in and out, breathing in the scent of him.  He pushed Will back towards the bed and he went, eagerly, falling onto his back as Hannibal crawled above him.  Will let his hands wander, feeling his ass, just as muscular as the rest of him, then tracing up his back, feeling his spine.  He traced up his neck and then finally reached the hat, slipping his fingers under the rim.

         “How do I get this off?”

         “There are bobby pins.” Hannibal said, reaching up to pull one out.  Together they moved their fingers around the rim, pulling at the pins haphazardly, until all were tossed to the floor and the hat fell, unwanted, finally gone.

         Will ran his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, beautiful and blonde and free.  Hannibal lowered his lips to Will’s neck and he began to suck, which made Will arch his back and tighten his fingers in Hannibal’s hair.  Even in his pleasured daze he still searched for those proud. glorious antlers, but felt nothing except soft, straight hair.

         “Where are they?” Will whispered through his moans.  Hannibal sucked his lips between his neck and collar bone, and Will arched his back again, lifting his hips only to find himself pinned down by Hannibal’s weight.  He groaned as Hannibal covered him, his fingers clasping tightly in his hair as he felt him suck bruises into his neck.  His pulse pounded harder and his dick swelled with lust.

         Hannibal’s lips wandered up to Will’s ear, where he whispered as he let his mouth brush over every part of it.

         “I am fully present, my dear Will.  I promise you, they are there.  Only your senses are being fooled.  Your mind knows the truth of me.”

         Hannibal reached out his tongue and licked around the shell of Will’s ear, and he gasped, then groaned.

         “My senses are pretty convinced.” he said.  “And I can’t say I’m not enjoying them, either.”

         “Then enjoy the show before you.” Hannibal said, grazing his dull, white teeth down Will’s ear to nip at the lobe.  “We are in it together.”

         Hannibal shifted to the side, leaving Will’s chest and dick uncovered.  He intertwined their legs as he traced his fingers down Will’s neck, then along his chest to stroke over his nipples.  Will gasped, then moaned as Hannibal began to circle one with his fingers.  He kissed his way down Will’s neck, then chest, until he sucked the other one into his mouth and Will squeaked, then melted into a puddle of hazy lust, his mind forgetting that he even had hands; nevermind putting them somewhere.

         Hannibal’s cock pressed against Will’s hip and he gently rocked against it, pleasuring himself with Will’s body, leaving little streaks of wetness as they dripped from the head.  Will’s own cock ached, swelling because of Hannibal’s attentions, until when Hannibal moved the hand on his nipple slowly down his chest, tickling over his stomach, Will almost shouted for him to hurry up.

         He rubbed his palm down along Will’s length and Will groaned, his eyes fluttering closed from the pleasure.  Hannibal continued to rub him that way, pressing his palm along his dick, pushing it between his hand and Will’s pelvis.  Will moaned unabashedly, bending the one knee that wasn’t pinned under Hannibal’s leg, spreading himself further open, wanting more.

         Hannibal’s lips left Will’s nipple and began trailing down his body, and Will could do nothing but pant with anticipation.  Hannibal seemed to take his sweet time to get where he was going, and Will didn’t have the patience.  He grabbed Hannibal’s hair and pushed his head down faster, which earned him a smitten chuckle.

         “Easy, dear Will.” Hannibal said, and then his lips were there, kissing the head of his cock.  Will groaned and canted his hips upward, which pushed him deeper into Hannibal’s mouth.  He sucked on the head and Will cried out from pleasure, his body trembling from how good it felt.  He had never felt anything so good.

         Hannibal sucked on him slowly, letting his lips seal as they closed at his tip, then making him breach them as his heat swallowed him up again.  Will’s fingers were tangled in Hannibal’s hair now, his hips shamelessly rocking upwards, pushing himself deeper into Hannibal’s hot mouth.

         He felt his drool start to drip down the length of him and pool on his balls, but he hardly cared.  What Hannibal was doing to him felt _so good_ , Will could hardly speak, and when he could, all he could say was “Yes.”  Hannibal moved his body so he was fully between Will’s legs and his hands pushed his other knee up, shoving his legs wide apart.  Heat prickled through his skin as he felt his ass exposed; and though he’d never done anything like this, he wasn’t so naïve as to not know what could happen.

         “Do you want to fuck me?” he whispered, and while Hannibal could only growl as his mouth was full of Will, he knew the answer when his hands slid up the inside of his thighs.

         “You can.  Please.” Will said; thinking that if it felt even as half as good as this, it was something he’d want to do every night for the rest of his life.

         Hannibal sucked hard, pulling his mouth off of Will’s cock, and suddenly he regretted his words.

         “No….go back…” he moaned, but only received a tender, wet kiss to the inside of his thigh as a response.  Then Hannibal’s mouth was kissing up his thigh, towards where his leg met his balls, and a deeper blush raced through him.  Hannibal kissed one, then sucked it gently into his mouth, and Will’s shame was overcome by pleasure so fast he didn’t have time to protest.  He groaned, arching his back, pushing his crotch closer to Hannibal’s face, wanting more, never wanting it to stop.

         Hannibal’s tongue licked him, sending jolts of desire straight up his dick, making it swell and leak onto his stomach.  When Hannibal pulled away he left a trail of drool, then licked his way lower, everything so wet that it dripped down between Will’s ass cheeks.  Hannibal parted them with his fingers, his body keeping Will’s legs spread, and then his tongue was touching Will somewhere he’d never even touched himself.

         He yelped at the intensity of the sensation and tried to wriggle away; a reflex like being tickled; too good and too much.  But Hannibal’s hands clasped his hips firmly and he went nowhere; instead only feeling his tongue prod him, then lick him, the press flat against him and drag its way up slowly.  Hannibal began to lick in rhythm, and soon the overwhelming sensation became all Will wanted; desire spreading up his balls to swell in his cock, his quick pants turning into long, low moans.

         “Oh yes.  Oh, Hannibal.” Will moaned, his face burning with heat; his entire body on fire.  His cock strained, begging to be touched, but he didn’t dare; the last thing he wanted was for this to end without Hannibal cumming too.  He imagined it; imagined Hannibal’s eyes rolling back in his head, imagined his stars shining so bright it hurt as his eyelids fluttered closed from pleasure.

         When Hannibal pushed his tongue into Will, he groaned, his fingers wrapping tighter in Hannibal’s hair, pulling his head closer.  He heard a pleased hum from Hannibal and then his tongue pushed deeper, breaching Will in the most pleasant of ways.  Will found his legs spreading wider, wanting, his eyes fluttering open and closed, flashes of Hannibal’s naked body between his legs dancing through his vision.

         Hannibal began to tease Will with a finger alongside his tongue, less dexterous but more purposeful, the strength behind it to truly penetrate.  When he pushed in, it burned, even as covered in drool as it was, as Will was.  Will inhaled sharply, a small whimper escaping him that he did not intend to make.

         Hannibal immediately pulled his finger away, along with his tongue, and raised his head.

         “No!  No, don’t stop, please…”

         “I have no intention of ceasing our lovemaking, Will.” Hannibal said, his voice gruff and cracking with desire.  He raised his head further and planted a kiss on Will’s knee.

         “But I do not want our first memory together to have pain for you.  Give me one moment.  Do not move.”

         Hannibal rose from the bed and Will watched him walk out of the bedroom, entirely naked.  He lay, chest still heaving, pulse still racing, with his knees spread wide and his cock and ass covered in drool.  It was hard to believe this was his life.  He’d never dreamed anything so good for himself.

         He heard the kitchen cabinet open and close, then Hannibal returned, holding a glass bottle with a glass stopper, filled with a greenish-yellow liquid.  As he closed the door behind him his eyes raked over Will, lingering on his face, on his heaving chest, on his swollen cock and reddened ass. 

         “Never have I beheld such beauty.” Hannibal said, his voice hardly above a whisper.  Will blushed and tipped his eyes lower, avoiding Hannibal’s gaze while also taking in the sight of him. 

         “Then you should look in a mirror.” he replied.  “Even covered up, you’re a stunning sight.”

         The kiss Hannibal pressed to Will’s lips was deep and long, and he pulled away slowly, stroking his fingers through Will’s hair.  They gazed into each other’s eyes for a long moment, before Hannibal turned his attention to Will’s lower half once again.

         He climbed onto the bed, settling himself down between Will’s legs, his knees pushing up against the sides of Wills’ ass.  He then opened the bottle and locked his eyes with Will, neither saying a word as Hannibal tipped the bottle and the oil poured from it to drizzle onto his stomach, thick and slippery, and a bit cold.

         Will inhaled sharply from the temperature, until it warmed on his skin.  Hannibal moved the bottle to pour it over Will’s cock, then down between his legs; the mess of it dripping everywhere, destroying the quilt on the top of the bed. 

         Then Hannibal poured it over his hand, setting the bottle down on Will’s nightstand.  He slid his fingers down along Will’s cock, making his breath hitch and his chest heave, before he traced them across his balls and then down beneath them, to where his tongue had been.

         He shamelessly slid his finger down between Will’s ass cheeks and started to tease him again.  Now that Will knew what it felt like, he anticipated the pleasure and groaned, spreading his legs wider again in just a few seconds.  The oil slicked everything, making Hannibal’s skin glide over him smoothly, and this time when he pushed in, the burn was far less.

         Will’s breath still hitched and he tensed at the unfamiliar sensation.  Hannibal leaned down and pressed another kiss to his knee, his clean hand stroking his leg slowly, with reassurance.

         “I would never harm you, Will.”

         “Except to drink my blood.” Will replied, the quip bringing a smile to Hannibal’s lips as he pulled his finger out and pressed it in again, going deeper this time.  He moved in a slow rhythm, sliding in and out of Will in a predictable way, so that he could learn what it felt like and know what to expect next.  He felt Hannibal pushing into him, entering him, pushing him apart slowly; then leaving, only to return.  The feeling gradually changed from strange to pleasant, until Will was able to open his eyes once more and gaze into Hannibal’s face.

         It was an entirely smitten face.  Hannibal’s cheeks were as blushed as Will’s felt, his pointed ears deep red at the tips.  His cock rose proudly from between his legs, high enough so that Will could see the tip of it above his obstructed view.  Will was gazing at it with a racing heart, wondering what it would feel like to have it inside him, when Hannibal stroked against the wall inside of him and sensation sprang through his nerves.

         “Oh!” he cried, arching his back.  Hannibal smirked and stroked it again, and Will’s fingers clasped the sheets as his body trembled.  “Yes, there!”

         Hannibal obliged, stroking that place over and over, until Will’s knees began to shake and his breaths came ragged and fast.  Lust burned through his body so thickly that he hardly noticed when a second finger was pushed into him; that was until _both_ of them pressed against that place and Will was crying out.

         “Hannibal!  Hannibal, be in me, please, please!”

         Hannibal removed his fingers from that spot but continued to push in and out of Will, spreading his fingers, stretching Will wider.  Will heaved on the bed, his chest rising and falling as his hair stuck to his forehead from sweat.  Once his eyes were able to focus he found Hannibal’s face, still entirely transfixed on him, his dry hand stroking Will’s leg gently.

         “Soon, dear Will.” he said.  He pushed a third finger into Will, in a row alongside the other two, spreading Will wide, wide open.  He was entirely exposed and vulnerable now, and all he could do with it was inch himself closer to Hannibal’s body, his hands reaching out for him, begging him to be near.

         “Delectable.  Perfect.” Hannibal whispered, his face in awe.  He reached out with his free hand and grabbed Will’s, leaning his face down until he kissed the back of it with reverence.  Then he reached over and clasped the bottle of oil, pulling it towards him.

         Hannibal gently slid his fingers out of Will as he poured the oil over his swollen erection.  He spread it along the length with slow, deliberate pulls, making sure to get every part a thick coating.  Then he poured more on his hand before setting the bottle back down, and his fingers returned to Will, pushing him open once again.

         Will groaned as he was entered, and as a tease, Hannibal crocked a finger and stroked it over that spot again.  Will whimpered and spread his knees wider, inching himself closer.  Hannibal shifted, moving from a sitting position to kneeling between Wills legs, the warm, round head of his cock brushing its way towards where his fingers entered Will.

         As he slid his fingers out, he pushed the head of his cock forward, using his fingers to guide it and to keep Will open.  When Will felt it pressing against him he raised his eyes to Hannibal’s face, and they looked at each other once more.

         “Please.” he whispered.

         Hannibal pressed forward, breaching Will, stretching him further.  As he slid his cock in he pulled out his fingers, and yet still Will was stretched.  He fell to his back and shut his eyes, feeling Hannibal gradually push into him, painfully slowly.  Will’s fingers bunched up the ruined quilt and he squeezed it, trembling as he felt his body spread open by Hannibal.

         He went in deeper than his fingers had; so deep, so very, very deep.  Will panted, sweating, trying to keep his body still.  He felt Hannibal’s hand stroking his knee with reassurance.

         “Shhhh.  It will be more pleasant if you relax.  I will not harm you.”

         Will knew that.  He knew it when he’d kissed the mouth with razor-sharp teeth, and that was so much more dangerous than this. 

         “Do I look afraid?” he said, and Hannibal gave him an adoring smile.

         He pulled out, just a little, then pushed in _further_.  It hurt as it spread Will open; pushed things aside to make way for him.  He realized that Hannibal still had a long way to go; that the depth of his fingers was not even half the distance, and he took Hannibal’s advice, and tried to relax.

         As soon as he did so, Hannibal began to move a little faster; pulling out a little, then pushing in further.  Will felt his body being penetrated, and as soon as he thought about by who, and by what, the lust started to return.  When he heard a soft groan from Hannibal’s lips it rushed back to him in a wave, and he opened his eyes to see him shaking, clasping Will’s knees with white knuckles, doing his best to remain in control.

         Will felt the heat of Hannibal’s balls press against his ass, and groaned as he realized he was fully buried inside him.  He gazed at Hannibal’s face and saw his eyes fluttering, his chest heaving as he took deep, heavy breaths.

         “Do I feel that good?” Will said, and Hannibal’s eyes flew open to burn into him.

         “Then show me.”

         Hannibal’s fingernails curled to press against his skin, and he pulled out and pushed in harder.  Now that Will was spread open the pain was dulling, and the pleasure from that spot being stretched and rubbed started to grow.

         “More.” Will said.  Hannibal pulled back and pushed in harder, faster, and Will listened to his moans, watched his face become lost to bliss, and felt a tingling inside his body that he knew was just beginning.

         “More.  Harder.”

         Hannibal pulled back and thrust.  Pleasure sprang through Will’s nerves and went straight to his cock, and he let it be known with a cry of “ _Yes!_ ”.  Hannibal thrust again, and again, and Will cried out with each one, his high-pitched noises being matched by Hannibal’s low, deep groans.  Hannibal’s breaths came as hard and heavy as his thrusts, his fingers pulling roughly against Will’s knees now to keep their bodies close.  Will reached up his hands towards him again, and this time Hannibal came to him, moving his body over him until Will was able to wrap his arms around his back. 

         Hannibal fucked into him with a strong, steady rhythm, and Will lifted his hips to match it.  They both worked hard to draw their bodies together, Hannibal covering Will so that their chests pressed hard against one another, their arms wrapped around each other, their bodies rocking together.  Hannibal groaned deeper with each push in, and Will moaned his name, lifting his legs to wrap them around Hannibal’s waist to pull him in deeper, closer.

         “Yes, yes, yes.” Will whispered, and Hannibal’s mouth panted in his ear, soft groans of “Will.” repeating over and over.  Hannibal’s body was close to his in every way; their chests, their stomachs, their arms.  Will’s cock was pressed between them and he instinctually pushed up to get more friction, groaning when he got it, their stomachs rubbing against it with the same rhythm Hannibal fucked him.

         As Hannibal rocked into Will he planted kisses along his neck and shoulder, his tongue giving little licks between them.  Will’s eyes became unfocused as he lost himself to Hannibal, forgetting everything else in the world except for what he felt and heard and breathed right this moment.  He couldn’t wrap his arms tight enough.  He couldn’t squeeze his legs hard enough.  With all his strength he pulled Hannibal to him, moaning every time he thrust in, drowning in the pleasure that they shared.

         Then Hannibal’s breathing changed and became faster.  He started to thrust harder and shallower and Will moaned from it, his own erection getting rubbed faster as well.  The heat started to coil in his balls and he trembled, hardly noticing the sweat that dripped into his eyes.  He felt Hannibal pounding into him and his cock being rubbed between them and his eyes rolled back in his head, until everything was darkness. 

         In the darkness he could almost hear Hannibal’s deep growl and feel his pricking claws; he reached up into his hair and knew where his antlers were; could almost feel them.  He grabbed ahold of them, his fingers tightening in Hannibal’s hair as he cried out his name, his orgasm pumping between them, all his desires released at once until he saw Hannibal’s stars behind his eyes.

         Will panted as his body shook, still being rocked by Hannibal as he pushed into him. Will wrapped his arms tightly around Hannibal’s back and whispered into his ear.

         “Be mine; be one with me.”

         Hannibal’s cry was louder than Will had expected, a release of pleasure as well as anguish.  He shoved himself deep into Will, pushing harder as if he could get in further, their bodies as close as they could ever be.  His arms clutched around Will so tightly he could hardly breathe, and Will held him back with all of his limbs wrapped around him, holding him close.  Hannibal gave a few more exhausted rocks, moving more and more slowly until he stilled.  He collapsed on top of Will, releasing his death-grip, allowing him to breathe again. 

         Will reached up and stroked his fingers through his hair, planting soft kisses to the side of his face.

         Slowly, Hannibal pulled out of him.  Will winced at the loss, then at the mess that poured out of him, then blushed at how much of it there was.  It was all over their stomachs as well; a mix of cum and oil and sweat.

         Hannibal collapsed beside him and then pulled Will close, pressing their knees and foreheads together.  His face looked haunted, pained.  Will reached up to stroke his hair.

         “You alright?”

         Hannibal pulled him into another kiss, and Will returned it, feeling the intensity with which it was needed.  When they parted Hannibal reached up to stroke his hair in return, and their eyes met.

         “It has been a very long time since I have felt any emotion to this depth, Will.” he whispered, his voice hoarse.  “I’d thought I’d lost the ability.”

         Will looked into his eyes as he continued to stroke his hair.

         “No.  You’ve just been imprisoned.  But we are going to change that.”

         Hannibal took Will’s hand and brought it to his lips again, kissing the back of it, like Will was royalty.

         “It will not be simple, and we may die.”

         “Then we die.”

         Hannibal set his jaw firmly, his eyes darting over Will’s face.

         “I shall not permit it.”

         “Then we’ll think of a good plan.  But in the morning.” Will said, his eyes drooping, the exhaustion of what they had just done catching up with him.

         “Yes, rest, dear Will, and I shall watch over you.”

         Will smiled softly at that, and let his eyes drift closed, the feeling of Hannibal’s arm around him and fingers stroking through his hair the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

         Will awoke slowly, the roar of the fire comforting in its warmth, keeping him sleepy.  The repetitive motion of fingers stroking through his hair did as much to soothe him as it did to wake him, leaving him feeling more content than he could ever remember.

         Then a kiss, pressed gently to his cheek, pulled him from his sleep enough so that he opened his eyes.

         He gazed into the fire and felt his lover behind him, their bodies entwined together so closely it felt as if they’d never been apart.  Hannibal’s legs entangled around his, wrapped so that neither could move without the other.  His pelvis was warm and soft where it pressed against Will’s ass, his dick a tender, supple thing resting between his cheeks.  His strong chest stretched tightly along his back, and Will could feel every inhale, even and steady, matching the rhythm of the way Hannibal stroked his hair.

         “Is the night over already?” Will asked softly.

         “Sadly, almost.  The shift bell will ring in perhaps half an hour.”

         Will breathed out a long exhale, intending it to be a sigh of annoyance, but instead it became a sigh of contentment.

         “I never want to move.”

         He could feel the twinge of emotion as it made Hannibal’s breath hitch.  He leaned in closer and pressed more kisses to Will’s cheek, his fingers now burying themselves in his hair and remaining there.

         “How those words make my heart glow with joy.”

         Will turned himself enough to see Hannibal’s face and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips.  It was returned wholeheartedly, their mouths languidly tasting each other, the rush of last night gone.

         “I can return to this bed with you tonight, if you so desire.” Hannibal said.  Will snorted a laugh.

         “If I so desire?” he said.  “Was I not clear last night where my desires lie?”

         Hannibal kissed him again, more fervently, turning his body so that he was on top of Will, crushing him to the bed.  Will groaned and arched his body up into his touch, his cock stirring at the promise of more attention.

         “We haven’t time before work.” Hannibal said softly, lifting himself up and off the bed.  Will groaned in protest, but also enjoyed watching Hannibal stand, his naked body stretching as he lifted his arms above his head.  Will stared at his back, then at his ass, and thought that as much of an illusion as it was, he liked looking at it.

         “I shall start breakfast.” he said, walking over to the dresser to remove a pair of striped tights and a tunic.  Will rolled over onto his side and let his head rest on his hand.  His heart beat a little faster at what he was about to say, though whether it was fear or excitement, he had a hard time pinning down.

         “Is it my dad?” he asked, his voice more sheepish than he’d intended.

         “No.  Your father was finished almost a full month ago.  This is a woman from Australia, whose five children collectively wrote to Santa to be rid of.”

         Will lay back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, contemplating that.

         “Were they on the nice list?”

         “Most likely not.” Hannibal said.

         “Then why would he grant their wish?”

         Hannibal pulled the tunic over his head and adjusted it, though he couldn’t get fully dressed as his belt was in the other room.

         “I have to gather enough food to last me for a year.  I can make a fully grown adult last about a month; so he has to select at least twelve humans that are cruel enough to die.  So I suppose exceptions are made.”

         Will looked at Hannibal with a glow in his cheeks that would not go away.

         “If only you weren’t so limited.” he said.  “Imagine how humanity could be improved.”

         Hannibal lifted his eyes and stared at Will for a long time, his expression unreadable.

         “Will, what do you consider me?”

         “Beautiful.” Will replied without hesitation.  “Beyond words.”

         He thought he saw a shimmer come to Hannibal’s eyes, though whether it was tears or the stars within them, it was hard to say.  Then he turned and was gone from the room, and Will was left to get dressed alone.

 

* * *

         It was impossible to hide the glow in their cheeks, or the nearness with which they walked, hands clasped together, bodies pressed close.  The Three Elfketeers saw it the moment they rounded the bend in the path, all three squealing with delight as they rushed to meet them.

         “Omg, look how in _love_ you guys are!” Jimmy said, his words forcing a smile to spread across Will’s face that he tried to fight, and couldn’t.  Instead he sighed dreamily and let his head fall onto Hannibal’s shoulder.

         “Yeah.” he replied.

         “Eeeeeee, omg omg omg, so when’s the consummation?!” Beverly asked.

         “Consummation?” Will responded, his voice cracking a bit, wondering if it wasn’t written all over his face that that was exactly what they’d just done.

         “Yes, the consummation!  In order for an Invited to stay, you have to consummate!”

         “Beverly, they have plenty of time, it’s only March.” Brian stated.

         Beverly pouted and kicked a ball of snow.

         March? Will thought.  The mention of the name of a month reminded him about time.  He’d entirely forgotten about time.

         He supposed they’d have to kill Santa before next Christmas.  They didn’t have all the time in the world.  The thought brought a shot of fear to his veins that made him stiffen.  Hannibal reacted by squeezing his hand tighter and leaning in to whisper to him.

         “They see your rounded ears, and do not know.” he said softly.  “If the normal rules applied to me, they would be pointed now.”    

         Will realized that Hannibal thought his apprehension was about everyone knowing they’d just made love, and he could find no way to tell him that wasn’t it at all.

         The walk to work was the same as it was every day—though their elf friends fawned over them more than usual, their excited chatter an uplifting cheerfulness that nearly drowned out Will’s fear of time running out.

         When they reached the main doors, it was harder to part ways than usual.

         “Can you at least tell me where you’ll be working today?” Will asked. 

         “I believe my services are needed in the bakery.  There was a wish for a five-tiered wedding cake a few days ago.”

         Will held both of Hannibal’s hands in the entryway of the workshop, pulling him in close so that no one else could hear their conversation.

         “Hannibal, I’m tired of your secrets.  After last night I’d hope you’d trust me.  Just tell me how you work around here.  I want to know where you are every day.”

         “I am sent to the department where I am most needed.” Hannibal stated.  “I have many valuable skills, one of which is what we discussed this morning, in our bed.  When that is needed, that is what I provide.  When it isn’t, my other skills are utilized.”

         Will blushed heavily at Hannibal’s phrase “in our bed.”  He knew Hannibal said it simply to watch him blush, and yet he enjoyed it just as much, nuzzling his face into Hannibal’s neck.  It earned him a kiss to his ear, which caused ten elves around them to say “awwwwww.” 

         Then Hannibal pulled away, stroking Will’s cheek with his palm.

         “I shall see you tonight, and we can continue this discussion.”

         Reluctantly they parted, their hands holding on until their fingertips pulled away from each other, and Will sighed dreamily as he walked into Motor Repair.

        

* * *

         Abigail kept her excitement to herself for all of ten minutes, before she burst into a laugh, turned around, and squeezed Will in a tight hug.

         “There was more kissing last night, wasn’t there?” she asked, and again, he couldn’t stop the smile from springing to his face.

         “Yes.” he said.  “A lot.”

         “Oh boy!  Oh boy, Will I’m so _excited_ for you!  I like you so much and I was kinda sad when I thought about you not working next to me anymore.  Now I don’t have to worry about that!”

         He reached up and brushed his fingers over the top of his ear, feeling how rounded it was.  He knew the same rules didn’t apply to Hannibal, but what would happen if Christmas came and they weren’t pointed?  Would he have to leave?

         Did any of this matter if Santa Claus was dead?

         “Don’t worry about your ears, Will.  They’ll grow in as soon as you... um, as soon as you and Hannibal decide you’re ready.”

         She blushed and flustered over her words, and it was a relief to Will that she wasn’t as blatant about it as his other friends. 

         It was, of course, the first thing Will asked Hannibal the moment they got home.

         “If I don’t become an elf by Christmas, what will happen?” Will asked as Hannibal prepared dinner, the sound of his chopping vegetables a comforting one, something Will was very used to by now.  “Will I have to leave?”

         “Of course not.” Hannibal said, “I’ve never been an elf, yet here I am.”

         Will sighed.

         “You’re not helping.  All anyone’s talking about is when my ears grow in after we consummate.  Which we’ve done, yet here they are, rounded…”

         “Will.” Hannibal said, scraping the vegetables into the frying pan and putting on the lid before walking over to take a seat at the table.  He reached across it and pulled Will’s hands into his own; his palms so warm, so firm, so strong.

         “I am not an elf.  Thus when you and I do consummate, an elf is not what you will become.”

         Will was lost in the heat of Hannibal’s hands, in the smoothness of his voice, in the sparked depths of his eyes so that it took him a moment to process everything Hannibal had just said.

         “What do you mean ‘when’?  Did we not…last night…”

         “We absolutely made love.” Hannibal said, reaching up to stroke his fingers through Will’s hair.  “But while I am trapped inside the Christmas magic, I am cut off from my own.   I cannot reach you fully, and thus cannot transform you.”

         Will furrowed his brow as he pondered all of that.

         “We have to consummate outside of Christmas.”

         “Or after I am free, yes.” Hannibal said, his eyes tracing over Will’s face with both sadness and adoration.  

         Will frowned.

         “What will happen, when we kill Santa?”

         “Then the way he has directed the magic will fall apart.  The light will remain.  Most likely, another will step up to grasp the reins of it.  Then they shall know everything the magic knows.  They shall see me as I am, and decide what to do with me.”

         Will frowned harder.

         “Then we have to make sure it’s someone who will free you.” he said. 

         “It will have to be someone powerful; someone already very acquainted with Christmas.  It will be one of the Original Elves, without a doubt.”

         Will thought of it being Bedelia and shuddered.  Hannibal rose again to attend dinner, turned off the flame, and began to plate their meal.

         “Peter.” Will said, as Hannibal brought their plates and set them on the table.  He sat across from Will and began to eat.

         “While Peter’s spirit is absolutely perfect, unfortunately his mind is damaged.  He would not be able to hold the position against those who would take it from him.”

         Will sighed heavily.  There was no one else he trusted…

         “I was considering Alana.”

         Will paused in his chewing and stared at Hannibal for a long moment.

         “Alana?”

         “Yes.  She is very powerful with Christmas magic; she can see the children as easily as Santa.  She knew your Christmas gifts at the simple sight of you.  And I consider her a dear friend.  Someone I might find trustworthy to know the truth of my secret.”

         Will shook his head as he remembered his one and only encounter with Alana.

         “She believes too much in the ‘naughty’ and ‘nice’ philosophy.  She judges the children…”

         “Only because it is her job.  Alana knows the ugly consequences of such judgement more so than anyone.  It is why she Invited Margot.”

         Will paused in his eating, too intrigued to take another bite.

         “Margot was raised by an evil man.  She had a brother, who was just as evil as his father.  Together they tormented her.  As a young child she wished to Santa over and over that her father and brother would die.  Yet her wishes were never granted, as she was always on the naughty list, having to violently defend herself against them.”

         Will was clasping his silverware so hard that the handles dug into his skin, and he shook with anger.

         “Alana saw all of this, as she sees it with every child.  And yet, as Margot grew older, her belief in Santa did not fade.  She continued to wish, far into her adulthood.  It was during this time that Alana and I became close; she confided to me all that was happening with Margot; and I encouraged her to continue pleading with Santa to allow Margot’s wish to be granted, until finally I was permitted to kill Margot’s father.  I did so violently, for Alana’s sake, and sometimes I wonder whether or not she has an inkling that it was me.”

         Will listened with eager ears, for the first time getting a straight and detailed story out of Hannibal about his past, and he wasn’t going to miss a word of it.

         “However, her brother remained, and he was even worse after their father’s death.  She took matters into her own hands.  She tried to kill him, to protect herself.  This put her on the naughty list forever, and Alana had had enough.  On Christmas Eve, when all the elves may travel the world as all the world is Christmas, Alana went to her.  Invited her personally.  She must have fallen in love after all those years of watching her.  Their consummation was quick.  Margot then used her position as an elf to request her brother’s death to Santa himself, which he then granted.

         Mason tasted delicious.” Hannibal said, popping a bit of meat into his mouth, and Will wondered briefly for a moment just who it was they were eating.

         “Alana hates Santa too.” Will said.

         “Not quite in the way we do, no.” Hannibal said.  “However were we to kill him, she would be sympathetic to your reason for wanting to do so.  The concern is whether once she is wielding all the power of Christmas for herself, she will learn the truth of what I am…”

         Will nodded, understanding. 

         “Then we tell her beforehand.”

         For the first time since he’d known him, Will saw apprehension, perhaps even worry on Hannibal’s face.

         “You said so yourself; she has an inkling.  Now whether she believes you’re an elf who performs murders, or whether she’s realized what you are, if she knows beforehand the chances that she will be amicable towards you after she gains Santa’s power are higher.”

         Hannibal nodded, seeing the soundness of the plan, and yet Will could tell he was not convinced.

         “And don’t we have to tell her beforehand, so she can be ready to take hold of the Christmas magic first, before anyone else?”

         Hannibal stared straight ahead, blankly, and nodded again.

         “Hannibal, tell me your reservations.”

         “If I were to lose you, I wouldn’t hesitate to destroy as much of this town and all who reside in it before I was brought to my own death.” he said.  “Alana included; and she will know it.”

         Will reached across the table and stroked his thumb over the back of Hannibal’s hand.

         “Then you’ll just have to not lose me.”

         It wasn’t until long after dinner, when they had digested and were heading towards the bedroom, short breaths interrupted by heated kisses that Will recalled the _other_ part of Hannibal’s sentence.

         _I am not an elf.  Thus when you and I do consummate, an elf is not what you will become._

         “Hannibal.” Will said, his voice breathy as he was pushed to the bed, his tunic already tossed to the ground, Hannibal’s lips sucking against his neck.

         “Mmm?” Hannibal responded.

         “What will I become?”

         The pause in Hannibal’s kisses were enough for Will to know he knew _exactly_ what he was talking about.  He lifted his head until he could look into Will’s eyes.

         “If we are able to join fully within the Winter, you will become as I am.”

         Will’s eyes grew wide and he stared into Hannibal’s, the stars in them shining a bit brighter in the darkness of the bedroom, lit only by the fire.

         “You do not need to concern yourself with that right now.” Hannibal said.  “As long as we are within Christmas, it cannot happen.”

         Will didn’t reply, the thoughts slipping from his racing mind as Hannibal dragged kisses across his skin.  Still, he had questions.  Still, he needed answers.

         “Hannibal,” he whispered, which only earned him more kisses, suck-marks on his neck and down his chest that no doubt would get him elfish giggles in the morning.

         “Hannibal, what will you do…ah…” he said, as Hannibal’s fingers grazed over the growing lump in his tights.  “What will you do when you are free?” he finally managed to get out, as Hannibal’s fingers slid under the waistband of his tights and took hold of his erection.  Will groaned, his eyelids fluttering closed and he curled into Hannibal’s body, burying his face in his neck.

         “Come and go as I please.” he whispered into Will’s ear.  “Leave to run with the winter winds, to hunt, to devour, to replenish myself.  Then return to you, carrying my prizes to lay them at your feet and revel in your beauty; to taste you repeatedly with my own tongue, look upon you with my own eyes.”

         Hannibal pulled Will’s tights off of him and wrapped his fingers around his erection, making him keen and thoughts slip further from his mind.

         “What if…what if…” he panted, his hips lifting themselves to push up into Hannibal’s touch.  “What if I came with you?  Became like you and came with you?  Would you come back here?”

         Hannibal slithered up Will’s body and pulled him close with his other arm, never ceasing the delicious pulls he was giving to Will’s dick.  His naked body pressed up behind him, his tongue licking the back of Will’s neck as he arched into Hannibal’s touch.

         “You do not need to make that decision now.”

         “I’m not.  I just want to know…”

         “I will go wherever you desire me to go.” Hannibal replied.  “But I do enjoy it here.  The North is my home, and over the centuries I have grown fond of the ones who now live here.”

         “You don’t want to destroy Christmas.”

         “Hardly.  Christmas is part of Winter now.  No matter where I may wander, there it will be.  I do not mind embracing it.  It is beautiful, and full of things I love such as music and fine arts and culinary delights.  I merely want my freedom.”

         Will felt Hannibal’s hardened cock slide up between his ass cheeks and Hannibal began to rock.  Will groaned and pushed his hips back into it, feeling its warmth, knowing that it should be cold.

         “Hannibal.” Will whispered.  “I want to feel you.”

         Hannibal reached over to the night stand and picked up the bottle of olive oil, left there from the night before.  Will felt it pour over his hip and down his back, and though it wasn’t quite what he’d meant, it felt far too good for him to protest when Hannibal’s slicked finger slipped inside of him.  All the words and questions that had been swirling in his head faded to nothing and he arched back into Hannibal’s touch, groaning as he was stroked over that spot that felt _so good_.  Hannibal wasn’t nearly as slow or patient as he had been last night and neither was Will.  Now that he knew what it felt like he needed it _now_ , and he rocked his hips back onto Hannibal’s hand, feeling his smile press into his neck as he did so.

         “Will, how you undo me.” Hannibal whispered into his ear.

         “ _You’re_ the one being undone?” Will said.  He cried out as a second finger was pushed into him and he lifted his knee, spreading himself open, beckoning Hannibal, wanting him.

         Hannibal’s third finger wasn’t long behind, and Will felt his other hand slither under his body and rise up to clasp across his chest.  He never ceased to plant sucking kisses around the side and back of Will’s neck, and Will was little more than a wanting puddle when Hannibal traded his fingers for his cock.

         He pushed in and Will breathed heavily, still surprised at how much bigger it was than Hannibal’s fingers.  He had little time to think however, because Hannibal’s slicked hand moved to press against his lower pelvis, pushing himself deeper into Will.

         Hannibal pushed into him slowly but relentlessly, spreading him open, going in deep, so, so deep.  Oh right, it was _that_ deep; somehow, over the course of one day, Will had already forgotten.

         He groaned as Hannibal continued to slide into him and he panted into the warm air of the room.  When he felt Hannibal’s pelvis return to cradle against his ass he wriggled back against it, pushing their bodies as close as they could come.

         “Fuck, you feel so good.” Will said, and Hannibal’s reply was to slide his tongue up Will’s neck until he reached his ear, where he nipped at the lobe between his teeth.

         Then he pulled out just a bit, and pushed back in quickly.  Will cried from pleasure and begged him to do it again.

         He obliged, rocking his hips a small distance away only to return quickly, giving Will short, little thrusts that sent sparks up his nerves.  With each movement he pulled out further and pushed in faster, his hand spread across Will’s pelvis pressing hard to keep them together.  Will could do nothing but moan into Hannibal’s touch, imagining claws at the end of the fingers spread wide over his throat and below his stomach.

         Hannibal pulled back far and snapped his hips forward, burying himself deep into Will.

         “Yes!” Will cried out, and Hannibal began to fuck him in earnest, raising one knee to give himself leverage, the muscles in his thigh flexing hard as they pushed against Will’s skin.

         “More!” Will begged, and Hannibal obliged, his arms pulling Will tightly to him as his hips snapped forward hard and fast enough so that the sound could be heard in the room, or would have been except it was drowned out by Will’s cries.

         Everything glowed; every nerve in his body felt amazing and only grew more sensitive.  Each brush of Hannibal’s lips against his neck was blissful agony, the intensity more than he somehow remembered, and Will forgot about everything that wasn’t Hannibal, or this moment.

         When Hannibal’s hand moved up from his pelvis to wrap around his cock, Will screamed with pleasure.  He arched his back and squeezed his eyes shut, not moving at all but allowing his body to be fucked and pleasured as Hannibal wanted.  His lips, his hand, his cock all worked to bring Will pleasure and Will cascaded into it, sensation after sensation drowning upon each other until it all swirled into one enormous wave.

         He came, his pleasure spurting over Hannibal’s hand and onto the bed, the pulses of it singing through his body alongside his heartbeat.  His eyes rolled back in his head and Will was boneless, a helpless thing of pleasure in Hannibal’s arms, and there was nothing else in the world he’d rather be.

         He whimpered when his dick became overstimulated, and Hannibal gently pulled his hand away.  He grabbed Will’s hip and continued to thrust into him, his breath thick and heavy as it washed across Will’s ear and face.  He gave a soft grunt and then his arms were wrapping so tightly around Will he thought he might crush him.  He buried his face in the back of Will’s hair, his hips burying his cock deep inside Will while he trembled.

         When Hannibal inhaled it was a desperate gasp, and Will turned his head as far as he could to plant kisses to his face.

         “I’m here.” he said, and he saw the haunted look on Hannibal’s face; his eyes were unfocused, almost as if he was lost.

         “We’re okay.” Will said, and Hannibal saw him then, reaching forward to meet Will’s lips with his own.  As they kissed Hannibal slid out of Will, the mess spreading over the bed to make it even worse than it had been the night before.  Will turned so that their bodies faced each other and continued to kiss Hannibal, reaching up to stroke his fingers through his hair and gently across his cheek.

         “I can never lose you.” Hannibal said. 

         “You won’t.” Will replied.  “You won’t.”

         “He’ll take you from me.”

         “He will never have me.” Will said.  “I’ll belong to no one but you.  I don’t belong to him, or to Christmas, or to Winter.  I’m only yours.”

         Hannibal pulled him tightly into his arms and buried his face in his neck, his grip so strong and so relentless that it took Will a very short time to fall asleep, from feeling more safe and wanted than he’d ever had in his life.


	15. Chapter 15

         Hannibal always waited for Will at the entrance of the workshop when the day was over.  Among the hubbub of elves rushing to get home he was a stalwart beacon of serenity, standing unaffected by those who rushed past him.  Will walked to him with the same shy smile as he had for the past week, unable to hide it, and no longer caring when their friends squealed “awwwwww” in high-pitched voices.

         Hannibal was no better than Will.  Though he hid his emotions better, his face as calm as the rest of him, there was a glow in his cheeks that was undeniable.  When Will reached him he extended his hand, and Will took it with more eagerness than he intended to.  When they started walking Hannibal turned to the left, away from the main road that headed towards town.

         “Hannibal?”

         “There is something I must show you.  Or someplace, rather.” Hannibal said, and Will’s heart beat harder from excitement.  He was hoping they’d head towards the darkness of the pine trees again; ever since he’d first seen Hannibal, all he wanted was to see him again.

         But instead Hannibal turned away from the dark forest, until he was leading Will around the side of the workshop, towards the back of Santa’s castle.  Will clasped Hannibal’s hand a bit tighter as they walked along a narrow path that led close to it, unable to hide his uneasiness.

         “Fear not.” Hannibal said.  “I shall let nothing harm you.”

         There was a growl in his voice deeper than was usually there, so soft Will more felt than heard it, and he knew that the monster beneath meant his promise with depth and blood.

         They came to the back of the castle and the path continued on, widening a bit so that they were able to walk side-by-side once again.  Hannibal slowed in his pace, and Will looked behind them at the enormous castle that rose up into the sky, its silhouette carved out among the stars. There were lights on in the higher rooms, though more were dark than not, and Will imagined Santa stalking the halls, glaring at his guards, somehow knowing all that went on in his town without ever leaving…

         “Will.” Hannibal said, and Will’s attention was turned away from the monstrous building that blocked the stars.

         He looked into the eyes of his lover and was drawn to them more than he was repulsed by his enemy.  He forgot about the castle as he gazed into Hannibal’s eyes, searching for the stars in them, delighted to find that the further they walked, the brighter they seemed to glow.  They were climbing a hill and were caught in its shadow, and for a moment Will thought he could see a bit of blackness peeking through the illusion that covered Hannibal’s face.

         The path they were on led them into another pine forest, though the trees here were not the giant ones that blocked the light.  These were Christmas-tree sized and planted in perfect rows.  Among them were saws lain in the snow and carts half-full of chopped trees, and Will laughed aloud that after all he had been through he was _back on a Christmas tree farm_.

         “I hope this isn’t your idea of romance Hannibal, dragging me to a place that reminds me of my old life.”

         “Hardly.  It is merely along the way.”

         Will leaned over and pecked Hannibal’s cheek, then tried his best to ignore his surroundings, hoping that they would end soon, not wanting to remember the last words his father had spoken to him.

         Though the ones he had said in return had changed his life forever, and brought him here.  Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible memory after all.

         Ahead, Will saw a glow, faint at first and then slowly brightening as they approached.  He recognized it for what it was shortly after that; the glow of colored Christmas lights, a reddish light that caused a rainbow of shadows to fall upon the white snow.  There were still saws and axes and carts lying about, but now Will’s eyes were caught by the beauty of the lights.  He paused and reached out a hand towards a light, remembering his journey in the deadly blizzard, and how trees with living lights had guided him.  Until now he’d thought it a dream; part of his delirium from nearly freezing to death.  And yet…

         He clasped a branch and Hannibal stilled, letting him look.  He pulled a green bulb towards him and peered at it, looking for how it was attached.  There was indeed no wire, no clip, no place for a battery.  No solar panel either; though that wouldn’t even make sense in a place where the sun never rose.  No, the bulb was growing directly from the branch, alive and part of the tree itself.  Out of curiosity he bent it forward until it snapped off with the sound of a snapping twig.  Immediately its light went out, and he was left holding a dead bulb in his palm.  On the branch where it had been was a little round circle, just as there would be had he snapped off a branch.

         “We are nearly there.” Hannibal said.  Will turned and walked beside him again, slipping the bulb into his elfin pocket, his eyes darting among the glowing branches, becoming lost in them.  As they walked, the tools disappeared from the land around them, and the layout of the trees became more haphazard.  The wide road became a narrow path, which had more twists and turns the further they went.  The trees here had uneven lights on them, some with clusters here and bare spots there, some with more lights on one side than the other.  Almost as if they were forgotten, or better yet, wild.

         The farther they walked, the more erratic the trees became, though no less beautiful.  Or rather Will found them more beautiful for it; allowed to grow free, as they pleased, and he could see why Hannibal liked it here. 

         A snowflake fell on his nose and Will snorted it away.  Then another; then he felt a third melt on his cheek.  He looked out further and realized it had started to snow, the fresh, soft whiteness covering the green of the trees, leaving their lights to burn through, changing the color of the flakes as they fell.

         “Ah, here is the place.” Hannibal said, stepping off of the path.  Will followed him without reservation, not afraid of becoming lost by Hannibal’s side.  He followed Hannibal’s green-tunic-covered back, the material almost black in the redness of the Christmas lights, snowflakes falling gently to land on his shoulders and cap.

         The further they walked, the less lights the trees tended to have.  The shadows grew thicker and Will thought he glimpsed a flicker of an antler above Hannibal’s head, disturbing the falling snowflakes, or a flash of a black-clawed hand as he walked through a dark shadow.  He became transfixed upon the form in front of him, trying to catch glimpses as the light and darkness played over him, sometimes sure he saw something, sometimes wondering if it was all wishful thinking.

         Hannibal stopped, and Will stopped behind him.  The snow was falling harder now, just enough so that it blocked their view of things far off, leaving a dance of colors around them as the erratically spaced lights shined upon them.

         Hannibal turned to Will with strong emotion on his face.

         “Here is the place where I found you.” Hannibal said, pointing to the bottom of a tree.  “When I first saw you in your house, you were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen; enough to make me nearly break my contract with Santa Claus.  T wanted to gaze upon you forever.  To take you with me.  But I was not permitted; there were other wishes to be granted.

         I did not enjoy my work as I usually do, for the rest of that Christmas Eve.  I fed, but did not savor it.  I was distracted, mournful, that I should never see you again.  Humans live for such a short time.  By the time I found myself anywhere near your town again, there was little chance you would still be alive.

         And then on my return, on the only night I am permitted to run with the Winter winds, still in my true form, I saw the heaped body of a nearly frozen human.  I approached you in hopes of gaining an extra snack to last me the year.  But when I turned you over and saw your face…”

         Hannibal’s voice drifted into such softness Will could no longer hear him.  He looked from the spot in the snow where Hannibal pointed to his face, and saw the pain upon it, the mourning, and the awe.

         “I could hardly believe the beauty of the face I beheld.  Even frozen, you were more beautiful than I’d realized, and somehow, you had found your way to me.  Though it seems impossible, even now…”

         “I thought I was running from you, but really I was running towards you.” Will whispered, stepping up into Hannibal’s vision, reaching up to brush the side of his face with his fingers.  Hannibal caught his gaze and Will looked into his beautiful eyes, the stars shining brightly now.  Not at their full dazzling whiteness, but clear enough that Will could _see_ them, stare at them, follow them as they swirled. 

         “Four thousand years.” Hannibal said, his voice soft but deep, deeper than his elf voice, but not quite the growl Will remembered from the darkness.

         “Four thousand years?” Will asked, his own voice nearly a whisper as he gazed upon Hannibal’s face.  He could absolutely see the blackness behind the skin now; the skin was transparent, half-invisible, showing the truth of Hannibal beneath.

         “My age.” Hannibal said, his hands lifting to rest on Will’s hips.  He clasped Will’s tunic and through it Will could feel the claws and the fingers together, both there in the same place, intermingled.  “I have spent nearly half my life as an elf, now.  I had thought perhaps the Winter had forgotten me.”

         Will saw Hannibal’s eyes waver, and put together what he was saying.

         “It is not a coincidence that I wandered my way to this place.” Will said, his voice soft, his eyelids drooping low as he leaned in to feel Hannibal’s breath wash over his lips.

         “Hardly.” Hannibal whispered.

         “The Winter drove me here.  It was wild; the strongest storm I’d ever seen.” Will told him, their lips now nearly brushing, so drawn together as they were.

         “Yet you lived, for me to find you.”

         “It knew we belonged together.”

         They ceased to speak as their lips pressed together, and beneath them, Will could feel the frozen, cold mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.  He pressed hard into the kiss, trying to feel Hannibal through the skin, yet he also enjoyed that, the warm, supple lips tasting him, drinking him in.

         “Forgive me, I enjoy both of your faces.” Will said quietly, falling forward to rest his cheek on Hannibal’s shoulder.  Hannibal lifted a hand and combed it through Will’s hair.

         “That isn’t something to be upset over, Will.  As I said, I have lived half my life with this face.  It’s grown on me.  I would not shed it entirely.  While my heart shines at how you admire my true form, it also brings me joy to share this warm flesh with you.”

         Their next kiss was much less painful and far more enjoyable.  Will dove his tongue into Hannibal’s mouth, tracing it over his dull teeth, searching for sharpened tips.  Hannibal was no less invasive, pushing his way into Will’s mouth, a soft moan of desire rumbling through him as their tastes intermingled and they each swallowed the flavor of them both.

         When they pulled apart, they were each smiling.

         “How words fail to express my delight that you have chosen me, Will.  Accepted me.”

         “You mean fallen head-over-heels for you.” Will said.  “I’m smitten and I can’t make it stop; nor do I want to.”

         For a long moment they simply gazed into each other’s eyes, the snow lightly falling around them, lit into rainbows by the colored lights that grew from the trees.  Will’s gaze darted over Hannibal’s face, looking for his true form beneath the illusion.  He traced his eyes up the nearly-invisible antlers, the snow swirling about as if they weren’t there, though the starlight behind them was dimmed, just a bit.

         “Christmas magic is weaker here.” Will said.

         “Hardly weak; merely more wild.  As it is in the depths of the pine forest, where you first saw me.”

         “But we’re near the edge of Christmas, aren’t we?”

         “Quite near.  And yes, at the edges, Christmas and Winter mingle more closely, as they should.”

         “Can you reach the Winter’s magic here?” Will asked, though in looking into Hannibal’s faces, he already knew the answer.

         “A small amount.” he said, taking a step back from Will, lifting his hands away from him to hold them in front of himself.  He cupped his palms and closed them together, as if he were trying to catch an insect alive inside his hands. Will heard a sound like crunching glass, and then Hannibal’s hands parted to reveal what looked like a frozen bubble.  The ice was so thin and delicate that Will was afraid even his warm breath would make it disappear.

         Hannibal held it up into the rainbowed light around them, refracting it, dazzling colored spots splashing on the ground before them and on their faces.

         “Beautiful.” Will said softly.

         “Not in comparison to you.” Hannibal said.  He blew upon the sphere of ice and a wisp of thread appeared at the top.  Hannibal held it out to Will and he took it, as delicately as he could.  The string was cold; made of single snowflakes strung together, yet it did not melt when it touched Will’s warm hand.  He held it up to his face and gazed into it, admiring the impossibly thin, delicate walls, the perfection with which the ice was frozen, free of any bubbles or lopsidedness.

         Hannibal then pressed his palms together and pulled them apart, revealing a long, thin spiral of ice, also hanging from its own string.

         “Christmas ornaments.” Will said, laughing.  “Made of ice.”

         Hannibal stepped forward until his body was pressed up against Will’s.  He reached over his shoulder, and Will turned around to watch him place the thin strand upon the edge of a glowing bough.  With Hannibal’s other hand on his shoulder, Will lifted his own ornament up to hang it on the tree, feeling Hannibal’s lips just beside his ear as he spoke.

         “Christmas and Winter, intertwined together into beauty.” Will said.  “This is what you are, Hannibal.”

           Will felt the smallest intake of breath from Hannibal’s lips, then heard the sound of frozen crackling again, and another ice ornament was placed in his hands. 

         Together they adorned the Christmas tree where Will had nearly died, the place where their life together had begun.  Sometimes Hannibal handed the ornaments to Will, sometimes he hung them himself.  They were each delicate and unique; made of ice but forged with magic, fragile and yet strong.  Will held some of them in his hands, amazed at how they didn’t melt, leaving his hands perfectly dry when he reached up to hang them.

         When the tree was fully decorated they stood back to admire it.  It shone more brightly than the others now, with the light refracted into patterns all about it.  Will sighed dreamily and leaned upon Hannibal’s chest, his heart and cheeks glowing as he felt him pull his arm around his waist.

         The two stood in the frozen air as snowflakes fell around them, both gazing at the symbol of their meeting with admiration and reverence, taking in what they had done to it, appreciating how the Winter had brought them together.  A fierce gust of wind blew from beyond where Will could see, making the ice ornaments jingle as they crashed against each other, delicate yet so strong they did not break.

         “Thank you.” Hannibal said into the wind, his voice more the deep growl of a monster than usual, sending chills down into Will’s bones.  “Thank you for bringing him to me.  For reminding me of whom I belong to.”

         Will could feel Hannibal’s claws curling into the fabric of his tunic as his strong arms wrapped around him.  Will leaned his head back onto Hannibal’s shoulder and felt his heart as it beat against his back, a rhythm steady and strong and alive.

         “Hannibal.” Will whispered, his eyes losing focus as he gazed out into the falling snow, the wind swirling it into beautiful patterns before letting it settle again.

         “Yes, my Will?”

         Will’s heart burned at the phrase, and it only made what he was about to say feel more right.

         “I want to become like you.  I want to be yours in every way.”

         He felt Hannibal hold his breath behind him, then felt his face press against his cheek as he leaned over his shoulder.

         “How I have longed my entire life to hear such words, though I did not know it.  You are not afraid?”

         “Afraid?” Will snorted.  “What is there to fear?  You are beauty and Winter incarnate, immortal, wild, nature, yet refined and civilized, appreciating the beauty of humanity as well.  There is nothing more perfect than you.”

         Will felt the single tear fall upon his neck before it froze into a perfect circle and fell into the snow.

         “My dearest Will, I promise you, I shall find a way.”

         Together they stood in the falling snow, wrapped so closely in each other that Will could feel  Hannibal’s breath, both warm and cold, alive and frozen, Christmas and Winter, all mingled into one.

        

        


	16. Chapter 16

         Will was actually whistling while he worked.  He’d always thought it was just an expression.  He never considered that action to be something anyone actually _did_.  The elves did it, of course; all the time, but, well, they were _elves_.  He was a man.  In love with a monster.  And whistling because of it. 

         The door to the workshop opened, but instead of a cart full of broken motors, an elf stood and opened a scroll.

         “Santa would like to speak in person to the Invited, Will.”

         All eyes turned to Will with grins on their faces.  Abigail looked over to Will with glee, clapping her hands together for him.  He did not share their enthusiasm, but forced a smile on his face to the best of his ability.

         “Every Invited gets to speak to Santa alone their first year!” Abigail said.  “He’s going to ask you how you’re liking it here and if you think you might want to stay!”

         He wondered if that was indeed the reason.

         Forcing himself to move though his joints were frozen with dread, Will walked down the aisle of workbenches towards the door, the happy giggles of the elves around him not reflecting his mood at all. 

         He followed the elf with the scroll through the workshop, walking along the balcony above the main floor.  The hubbub of cheerful working wafted up to them, gleeful chatter and several different songs at once, all swirling in his head and making him more anxious.  He considered for a brief moment becoming lost in the crowd- then realized the futility of that.

         He lived at the North Pole under the hospitality of Santa’s magic.  If he was summoned, he went.

         They reached the staircase that Will had gone up only once before.  In the light it looked far more cheerful; a bright red carpet with curled wooden banisters wrapped in Christmas garland.  When they reached the top, one of the large wooden doors swung open, pulled by a tiny elf tugging with all her might.  He followed the elf with the scroll through it, and they were back in the hall Will had only vague memories of.

         The wooden door closed behind them, and the sounds of the workshop were instantly silent.

         The hall was brightly lit now, by hundreds of candles in sconces on the walls.  Along the ceiling and draping around the holders was Christmas garland, draped with tinsel and garnished with ornaments.  Will allowed himself to be led back to the throne room where he had originally been judged, and he dared not show any of his true emotions on his face, keeping the smile plastered there like a shield.

         The guard-elves still stood at attention, their faces stern and foreboding.  They didn’t seem much like elves at all.  He suddenly missed his friends, their happiness always genuine, their cheerfulness for him real, if sometimes a little annoying.

         The doors to the throne room creaked open on their own.  The interior was entirely lit now, and Will could see what a grand room it was indeed.  There were large columns spread far apart, every one intricately wrapped in a different kind of Christmas garland; some sparkling and full of glitter, others with natural pine and cranberry chains. 

         The figure upon the throne was no less terrifying, however.  Will walked forward alone, the elf who had led him staying behind, as the doors slowly swung shut with a large clang.  Will walked forward at a steady pace, keeping his eyes on Santa and nowhere else, determined to hide everything that he possibly could from him.

          Will reached the throne and paused six feet in front of it, not willing to go any closer.  Santa was taller than Will remembered, as tall as the trees, and huge in a way that children might describe as fat- but Will could see only power there, hiding beneath the thick red suit trimmed in white fur. 

         “Will!  It is so good to see you again!” he said loudly, his voice rumbling and deep.  It sent shivers to Will’s bones, and he concentrated on keeping up his fake a smile and not baring his teeth in anger at his enemy.

         “I apologize for not speaking to you before three months.  I normally like to keep in touch with the Invited at least monthly; but this year has been busier than usual.”

         He gave Will a smile that was no doubt meant to be friendly, but made him shiver to his toes.  Will widened his smile and looked up at Santa’s hat, all the old feelings that made it difficult to make eye contact suddenly returning to him.

         “Has it been that long already?  I hadn’t noticed.” Will said, trying to reveal as little as possible without giving away that he was hiding anything.

         “Wonderful!  Time flies when you’re having fun.  Yet let me ask you directly, Will. How are you adjusting to life here in the North?”

         “It’s pleasant.  I like it here.” he said, trying to get a read on what Santa was after.  He knew that Santa knew Hannibal was no ordinary elf, so he didn’t expect himself to be treated like an ordinary Invited.

         “Excellent!” Santa said, and he rose from his throne.  He would have already been taller than Will, but up on the dais he towered over him.  He took the three steps down and headed towards Will,

and he couldn’t help it, he took a step back.

         “Let us have our conversation while I show you my castle.” Santa said.  “It is only proper to welcome a guest with a tour.”

         Will followed Santa through the throne room towards another door, one far away from the grand entrance.  He opened it and gestured for Will to step through and he did, turning so as not to show his back to Santa for even a second.

         Santa closed the door and walked beside Will, leading him down the hall.  It wasn’t narrow, but Santa was huge, and it was difficult for Will to keep any distance from him without looking like he was repulsed.  He kept his eyes ahead, not looking at the towering being that walked beside him, pretending to be very interested in the Christmas decorations that lined the hall instead.

         There was no one else around.

         “I have heard rumors that you and Hannibal have become quite interested in each other.” Santa said.

         “You’re not one for small talk.” Will replied, trying to get a read on him, trying to figure out his motives for this conversation.  He laughed.

         “No; at my age I suppose the propensity for small talk has faded.”

         Will inwardly sneered.  Hannibal was twice his age and he _adored_ small talk.

         “You haven’t answered my question.” Santa said.

         “You haven’t asked one.” Will replied.  Santa laughed, a full, hearty laugh from his belly that could absolutely be mistaken for being ‘jolly’.

         “You’ve always been a clever lad.” Santa said.  “I suppose I am asking whether the rumors are true.  If you have indeed become smitten with Hannibal.”

         Santa turned to look at Will, and he accidentally caught his eye for a moment.  It was black; as black as the night, and seemed to pierce through Will into a depth that made him feel invaded.

         Yet Santa wouldn’t be asking if he already knew.  Would he?  Will suddenly found his lack of knowledge of this being to be very disconcerting.

         “Yes.” he said.  “I’m smitten.  I’d go so far as to say we’re in love.”

         He saw sadness fall over Santa’s face, and he clenched his teeth with anger.  Falling in love with Hannibal was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to him.  How _dare_ Santa pity him for it.

         “I had feared as much, my boy.  I hate to do this, but I need to know if you are aware of exactly who Hannibal is.  He is not like other elves.”

         “I know who Hannibal is.” Will said, never having uttered a truer statement in his life.

         “I know that you think you do, my boy.  But I must warn you, he is not all he seems.  There is another side to him.  A very dark side.  And while I hope, quite often, that that side of him is within his past…I am never entirely certain.”

         Will’s mind raced with possibilities.  Just yesterday, Hannibal had confessed to him that he’d worried the Winter had forgotten about him.  If Hannibal had thought that, then perhaps Santa thought it as well.  He wasn’t here because he was concerned about Will’s well-being.  He was fishing for information, from the first person he saw as possibly being allowed into Hannibal’s mind, close to his secrets.

         Will inwardly smirked to himself.

         “Oh, yes.  Hannibal has told me all about what he used to be.  His origin is not like other elves, I’m aware of that.” Will said.  “In fact he shared that with me to prove to me how trustworthy he is now.  How much he loves me, and how he would never betray me, or you, or any of us.”

         The word ‘us’ stuck in his throat and he had to force it out.  He hoped it still sounded natural when it finally passed through his lips.

         “I do hope that he is being truthful with you, my boy.” Santa said, and Will had to resist clenching his fist at being called that.  “So I am going to tell you _exactly_ who Hannibal is, and if indeed he has been truthful with you, it will prove no shock to you and ruin nothing.  But if he has lied to you, then I will be protecting you from a monster.  Come.”

         Santa waved his hand, and a door appeared in the stone wall that was not there before.  Will managed to hide any reaction to that, not wanting to give Santa the satisfaction.  He opened it and it led to another hall, this one thankfully wider than they’d been in, and much grander.

         Lining both walls were large, beautiful paintings set in intricate golden frames.  Beside and above each painting was a candelabra, lighting the entire hall so that the paintings vivid colors could be seen.  Santa stopped at the first one and gestured to it.

         “When I was very young, I saw the joy that my giving gifts to children brought.  Not only to them, but to their parents as well.  Children who otherwise would never have had any toys at all, instead waited with eager hearts for me to arrive on Christmas and bring them gifts.”

         In the painting, Will saw a peasant family, from medieval times or perhaps even before that.  They were in little more than a wooden shack, and at the center were three children, each with joy on their faces as they reached out their hands.  In the doorway of the home stood a man whom to Will looked nothing at all like the man who stood beside him now.

         He was thin, and young, with thick black hair and a short, trimmed beard.  He had some similar facial features, but his eyes were kind, and there was true joy in them as he handed a rag doll to the little girl with outstretched hands.  Will’s brow furrowed and he felt immensely sad.  Whoever that man had been, he was long gone.

           “But I was only one man.  I only had so much time in the year to make gifts, and could only travel so far in one night as I walked.”  Santa turned and left the painting, moving on to the one beside it.

         This one showed a painting of a bleak, snowy landscape with a black, starless sky.  It looked dead.  In the center of it, as if seen from high above, was a tiny elf village with no more than a dozen houses.

         “Then the Christmas magic chose me.  It blew out of the North, resting its tendrils of light upon me, and showed me the place where I belonged.  I went, and discovered a vast, empty land with no life within it, mine for the taking.”

         Will grit his teeth but remained silent.

         “I called upon the Christmas magic to bring me helpers, and there they were born, out of the light.  Together we built this city, though it was much smaller then.  We built the workshop and then began making toys, enough toys for all the children of the world.  All was beautiful, and all was peace.” Santa said, his booming voice echoing down the hall, assaulting Will’s ears.  When Santa moved towards the third painting he rushed to get there ahead of him, to avoid his large frame from bumping into him.

         “We weren’t there long.  Only a few years, when monsters from the darkness attacked us.”

         The painting depicted helpless elves running from a mindless pack of grey, sickly things with blood dripping from their mouths.  It took Will a moment to realize that they were supposed to depict Hannibal’s kind; it was the stubby, graceless antlers protruding from their heads that gave it away.  Absolutely everything about them was wrong.  They had black beady eyes, not brilliant white; their skin was a pale, ashen grey, not black as night.  They had no grace to them.  No beauty at all.  They were hideous.

         “They hunted and ate my elves as their prey.  I had to call upon the light of Christmas to protect us- it was no longer a power of peace, but of war.  The battles were vicious and deadly.  Many died on both sides- until finally, the evil monsters were vanquished.”

         So far, Will heard mostly the truth from Santa’s lips.  Yet it didn’t make the story any more bearable; though he realized it probably _should have_.  Santa had done what anyone would do- defend and protect his family from being slaughtered and eaten.  Yet when Will closed his eyes, he imagined it from Hannibal’s point of view; a sudden blooming of food close to home.  Who wouldn’t have eaten it?

         “One by one, I vanquished them all.  All but one.  It wasn’t until Hannibal came to me that I even realized these monsters could speak or think.  His proposal was clever.  He promised to stop hunting my elves if I stopped hunting him.  He promised he would reform and become one of us.  Now anyone with sense would have destroyed him on the spot.  But me, in my generosity and with the depth of kindness of Christmas, decided to give him a chance, at great risk to my elves.”

         Will found his hatred for Santa growing with each word.  Trading life for slavery was hardly ‘kind’.  Keeping Hannibal bound when he should be free to run with the Winter…

         “After all this time, I am still not quite sure whether he is truly reformed, Will.”

         Santa turned to him and placed a palm upon his shoulder.  It took great strength for Will not to pull away.  “And so I tell you this story with great hope.  That indeed, he has been honest with you; and divulged this to you, and that you know it.  Because if he has, that means there may be hope for him yet.”

         Will grit his teeth and looked directly into his bottomless black eyes and gave the sincerest nod he could.

         “He has told me all of this.” he said, and the sentence was entirely truthful, so the next part flowed easily from his lips.  “He has also told me how living amongst the elves all this time has changed him.  Made him forget where he came from.  It’s no more to him than a distant memory; like a bad dream.  That’s why he’s seeking a partner now.  He sees the happiness that such love brings to the other elves, and he wants it for himself.”

         Will saw Santa’s features soften as he gave a warm, hopeful smile.  He gave Will’s shoulder a squeeze. Will cringed inwardly at the touch.

         “Will, your words give me much hope.” he said.  “You will forgive me for still being wary.  But I believe that with your presence, he will learn the true meaning of love, and let go of the monster entirely.”

         Will forced a smile onto his face.  Santa did not remove his hand from his shoulder, but kept it there as to Will’s relief, he turned them around and started to head back towards the throne room.  He was very aware of the fact that Hannibal had no power here- and if Santa did not find Will suitable to be released, he would not be allowed to leave.

         “Forgive me for asking something so personal, but have you and Hannibal tried to consummate yet?” Santa asked.  Will couldn’t keep himself from setting his jaw.  He took a moment before answering, hoping to keep his voice calm and steady.

         “Not yet.” he said.  “It’s only been three months, after all.”

         “Yes, you have time.” Santa said as he opened the door that led back into the throne room.  He thankfully led Will away from the throne and towards the large doors.  “And I’m not rushing you.  But that would be the clearest and easiest way to tell where Hannibal’s loyalties truly lie.  If he is able to transform you into an elf, then he truly has reformed.”

         Will smiled warmly and forced himself to look into those hideous black eyes once more.

         “I have no doubts that will happen.” he said.  His face and voice must have been as reassuring as he’d intended, because with one more squeeze to his shoulder and a bright smile, Santa let go of him.

         “I look forward to your consummation and following marriage, Will.” Santa said.  “You are an excellent helper and I have no doubt you will be happy here, living among us.”

         “Thank you, Santa.” he said.

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

            Hannibal was waiting for him immediately outside the throne room doors.  Will practically threw himself into his arms and Hannibal wrapped him tightly to himself, brushing his hands over every inch of him he could touch: through his hair, over his ears, down his neck.

            “Shoulder.” Will said.  “Right shoulder.”

            He couldn’t say anything more in front of the guards, but Hannibal understood immediately.  He rubbed his hands firmly over Will’s shoulder, then drew him close and pressed a long, hard kiss to his lips.

            “Let us get you back.” Hannibal said, though he didn’t say back to _where_ , which implied to Will he did _not_ mean back to his workbench.

            Indeed Hannibal had not meant that.  He led Will down several halls, still within the castle, opening doors that were nearly hidden and finding staircases behind tapestries.  Will followed him, their hands clutched together tightly, almost as if Will had been in life-threatening danger and had barely escaped.  He certainly felt like that.

            “How well do you know your way around this place?” Will whispered.

            “Very well.  My multiple talents have provided me access to one hall or another at various times.  Most of the older elves know their way around Santa’s castle.  Two thousand years is a very long time.”

            Will clutched Hannibal’s hand, glad to have it to hold on to, especially in halls that were lit by a single candle or none at all.  They passed dusty rooms and shadowy paintings, each of them seeming to tell a story about the North Pole’s past.  In one he saw Peter being kicked in the head by a reindeer, and had to turn his face away.

            They emerged into the night on the far side of the castle, on a rickety wooden ledge overhanging the cart-tracks exiting the workshop.  Large carts rolled out beneath them, filled with finished toys, ready to be shipped off to Wrapping.  Hannibal climbed down a rickety wooden ladder and Will followed him, wondering where it was they were going, yet trusting Hannibal enough to not feel he needed to ask.

            They landed behind the tracks and when the next cart came by, Hannibal walked behind it, keeping him and Will hidden from the eyes of all the workers, until the cart came near the tree-line.  He stepped into the forest of pine trees and Will followed him, the pair ducking under the low branches as they made their way through the deep snow.  It wasn’t heavily trodden here and so Will sank into it, sometimes up to his knees, and to Will’s dismay, Hannibal sank as well.  Too much light filtered in from the workshop here, but now and then part of Hannibal would pass through a shadow and Will would catch a glimpse of a black arm or a sharp-clawed foot.

            They emerged from the trees by one of the main roads of town.  Stepping onto it while it was utterly empty was strange to Will, and reminded him of his first night here.  He was used to everything  bustling and noisy and crowded; the sound of elf chatter and jingle bells filling every corner of space.

            Now it was as quiet as the pine forest, the cheerful holiday lights shining upon the houses regardless, lighting every inch of air, chasing away the darkness.

            Hannibal turned down a few streets until Will recognized where they were.

            “We’re going to Alana’s.” he said.

            “Indeed, we are.”

            He heard the tremor in Hannibal’s voice and reached out an arm to stop him.  He halted in his march, and Will turned him to look into his face, the light of a candy-cane lamp shining above their heads, the minty scent of the pole filling Will’s nostrils.

            “Hannibal?”

            Hannibal looked down the street both ways, then glanced at the windows of the nearby houses, checking to ensure that they were indeed alone.

            He reached up and put his hands on Will’s shoulders, his façade cracking open to reveal anger and fear beneath.

            “I heard from rumors that he had you, and I thought the worst.”

            “I’m fine.  He only wanted to ask…”

            “Shhh.  We should not speak here.” Hannibal said.  He grabbed Will’s hand and led him down the lane, then made a turn onto Alana’s street.

            “Won’t she and Margot be at the workshop?”

            “Yes.” Hannibal said, walking straight up to the front door and pushing it open.  Elves had no reason for locks on their doors.

            Will followed him inside and Hannibal closed the door softly.  Then Will was pulled into a fierce hug without warning, Hannibal’s hands covering the back of his head while he buried his face in Will’s neck, squeezing him.  Will tried to return the hug, but Hannibal’s arms held him so tightly he couldn’t move much, so instead he nuzzled Hannibal’s hair and whispered reassurances into his ear.

            “I’m alright.” he said.  “Hannibal, I’m alright.”

            Hannibal held Will for a long moment, until he was able to compose himself enough to stand straight and release Will.  He reached up a hand and brushed Will’s hair away from his face, and Will closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of Hannibal’s fingertips on him, tender and gentle.

            “We can speak freely here.” Hannibal said.  “Alana and I together cast a spell upon this house centuries ago to conceal our words, back when she was confiding to me her feelings for Margot.  It was never removed.”

            “And our house?”

            “Is close enough to Winter that Santa cannot see or hear what goes on within it.”

            “And he’s okay with this?”

            “Hardly.  Which is why he was questioning you, I presume?”

            “Yes.” Will said, and then proceeded to tell Hannibal everything that had transpired between him and Santa.

            “I couldn’t tell whether he believed me…”

            “No, but he _wants_ to, and you are very convincing.” Hannibal said.  “I believe you have hid our plans from him well.”

            Will nodded, looking around the small cottage that Margot and Alana shared.  It was decorated much more heavily than Hannibal’s home; with three Christmas trees in the small one-room house, and a fourth porcelain one as the centerpiece of the heavy wooden table.  Stockings were hung over the fireplace and Christmas garland, covered in sparkles and tinsel, was wrapped around every ceiling beam.

            “You should have some lunch.” Hannibal said.  “As you will not be eating at work.”

            Will nodded and sat at the table while Hannibal went to work at the small counter in Alana’s home, pulling salted meats and dried vegetables from her cabinets.

            “She won’t mind?” Will said.

            “Hardly.  We’ve been friends for centuries.” he said. 

            “Hannibal, why did we sneak out of the workshop early?  Santa must know we’re here?”

            “I am hoping he does not.  It is difficult for him to see me at all; and I did my best to blind him to your whereabouts once we entered the forest.  But the elves are another matter.  Were we to come here during rush hour, they’d have noticed where we’d gone; and you have observed the way they gossip.”

            Will nodded with a slight smile to his lips.  He rather liked the elves, or rather, most of them.  Even if they did tend to be gossipy.

            It was strange eating without Hannibal, and stranger still to think of the reason why.  Alana’s food tasted no different to him than Hannibal’s; except that he knew the meat in her house only came from animals.  Still Hannibal sat at the table with him while they spoke about their plans.

            “What will we do if Alana doesn’t take our side?” Will asked.

            “There are several possibilities that I see as a likely reaction from her.” Hannibal said.  “But even if she entirely disagrees with our goal, I do not see her sharing our plans with anyone.  Alana’s only purpose is to keep Margot safe, and she will do nothing that she thinks would put her in danger.”

            “Then she’s not likely to help us, either.” Will said.

            “Perhaps not.  However that is not what we need from her.  What we need is for her to be ready should we succeed; for her to take hold of the Christmas magic once it is free, and _this_ she will do, regardless of whether she agrees with our plans or not.  For there is no safer environment for Margot than for Alana herself to become Santa Claus.”

            Will stared into the steam of his tea as he reflected upon just how manipulative Hannibal could be.  Of course he would be; it would take incredible skills to manipulate Santa into not killing him for all this time.  Will had a strong feeling that as much as he knew about Hannibal, it was only the surface of a deep abyss, one that he would spend centuries learning, and perhaps never learn all of it entirely.

            “You look contemplative.” Hannibal said.  Will pricked a small smile at that and brought his tea to his lips.

            “I was.”

            “Reconsidering your decision to be with me?”

            “Hardly.  Merely sitting in awe of you, again.  You seem to do it to me daily.”

            “How you steal the words from my mouth.” Hannibal said, his voice soft.  Will recognized his expression and set his tea down so that Hannibal could lean over and press a lingering kiss to his lips.  It was then that they heard the loud chattering of elves as they approached the town, having entirely missed the close of shift whistle.

            It wasn’t long before Alana and Margot came home, their surprise at their uninvited guests quickly hidden.

            “I should have known I’d find you here, after hearing that Will had his interview with Santa.” Alana said, removing her jingling shoes and setting them by the door.

            “How did it go?” Margot asked, pulling her hat off immediately to hang it on the coat rack, and Will felt a moment of solidarity with her.  She hated the elf clothes as much as he did.

            “As well as we could have hoped.” Hannibal said.  He rose and went to the tea kettle, which was still hot on the stove.  “Tea?”

            Alana snorted.  “Only you would be so presumptuous as to offer me tea in my own home.”

            “I would love some, thank you.” Margot said, sitting at the table across from Will, giving him a bright smile.  “So Will, have you decided yet whether you are going to stay at the North Pole?”

            “Yes.” he said, seeing no harm in admitting that.  Though when it came to the more delicate parts of the conversation, he was going to leave all the talking up to Hannibal.

            “Oh, good for you, Hannibal!” Alana said, sitting at the table as well, accepting the cup of tea from him with a grin.  “After all these years, you’ve finally found the one!”

            “It seems I have.” he said, setting the kettle back on the stove and returning to his seat.  Both Margot and Alana were staring at Will with glowing cheeks and bright eyes.  They lifted their teacups.

            “To Hannibal and Will, the happy couple!”

            Hannibal lifted his cup as well, so Will joined them in the toast.  They each took a sip, and Margot spoke the moment she swallowed, seeming to be bursting with excitement.

            “So, when are you going to consummate?  There really is no point in waiting.”

            Alana gave her a ‘that was rude dear’ expression, which Margot brushed off.

            “That situation is more complicated than you might expect.” Hannibal said, his eyes watching both of them carefully for their reaction.  Margot looked perplexed, but Alana’s face seemed to sadden, rather than become confused.  Almost as if she’d seen this coming, and was hoping it would never arrive.

            “What do you mean?” Margot asked, and Alana reached over to cover the back of her hand, wrapping her fingers tightly.

            “You may want to step outside, hon.” she said.  “What is about to be spoken at this table is…unsanctioned.”

            Margot tilted her head to the side quizzically, then frowned at her wife.

            “You’re not keeping secrets from me.  I can keep my mouth shut.”

            Alana leaned over and pressed a kiss to Margot’s forehead.  Then she turned to Hannibal and with her free hand, gestured at him to continue.

            “Go on, Hannibal.  Tell me what you’ve been hiding all this time.”

            “Do you know?” he asked, and Will could hear the emotion in his voice, as carefully hidden as it was.

            “I suspect.” Alana said, taking another sip of her tea.  “I’ve suspected for quite a while.  Yet you’ve never been anything to me but a dear friend, so I saw no reason to say a word about it.  The question is, does _Will_ know?”

            “I know.” Will said with utmost confidence, turning to look directly into Alana’s eyes. 

            “Will, you cannot learn a thousand years’ worth of knowledge in three months.” she replied.

            “I know enough.” he said.  “Believe me, I am making this choice with full knowledge of what I am choosing.”

            Alana turned to Hannibal and raised an eyebrow.

            “He has now heard both my version of what happened, as well as Santa’s.  He has also seen for himself.” Hannibal said.  “And touched, and tasted.”

            Alana’s eyes grew wide and she put her teacup down with a rattle.  While she may have suspected all these years, this was the first solid confirmation for her, and Will could tell it hadn’t _really_ sunk in for her until this moment.

            “You have _already_ consummated.” she said softly.  Margot frowned, her eyes darting to Will’s rounded ears.

            “We have made the attempt, yes.”

            Alana’s eyes narrowed.

            “What does _that_ mean?”

            “It means what it means.  We have made love, and yet no transformation has taken place.  I am without access to my own magic here, and thus nothing could happen.”

            Alana nodded slowly as she stewed upon that, her eyes darting back and forth across the table as she thought.

            “What…” Margot asked.

            “Hannibal is one of the winter monsters.” Alana said to her.  “Always has been.”

            Margot’s eyes grew wide and she turned to stare at Hannibal with fear.  In reaction to that Will felt it necessary to reach out his hand and clasp Hannibal’s tightly, just as she held Alana’s.

            “The only one that remains, in fact.” Hannibal said.  “You needn’t fear me, Margot.  I have not harmed an elf since long before you were born.”

            Margot turned to look at her wife for direction.  Alana stared at the table, her brow furrowing in concentration.

            “Hannibal, why are you telling me this _now_?  Is it because of Will?” she said.

            “Yes, though not for any reasons you may think.” he said.  “Alana, do you know why I live amongst the elves?”

            Alana shook her head.  “No.  I’ve always suspected what you were, but no, I don’t.  I could never figure that part out.  Which is partially why I was never sure.  If you are a winter monster, then why _would_ you live as an elf, among us?”

            “The concise reason?  To keep my life.” he said.  “When I saw all my brethren, all my family fall at the hands of Santa…”

            Margot and Alana’s hands tightened around each other, and Will realized they were not used to hearing this story from _this_ perspective.

            “…I realized I had only one choice for survival, and that was a truce.  Peace.  An end to the war.”

            Alana nodded slowly.  That part was easy for her to understand.

            “Living as an elf, becoming one of his helpers, was the only deal Santa would accept.” Hannibal said.  “As living within the Christmas light strips me of my magic, and he can keep a watchful eye upon me, to ensure that I keep my half of the bargain.”

            “Which is?” Alana asked, her voice unsteady.

            “That I should never harm another elf again.  I assure you, it is entirely unnecessary.  After nearly two thousand years of living among you, I have grown fond of you.  You especially, Alana.  Our friendship is not trivial to me.”

            Will watched both of their faces as they contemplated all of that.  Alana’s brow furrowed even further and she closed her eyes, no doubt pulling up both near and long-forgotten memories, searching them for the truth.  Margot watched her face intently, waiting along with the others to see what she would decide.

            Her eyes opened and she looked directly into Hannibal’s face, fearless.

            “While I believe you, my question still stands.  Why are you telling me this _now_?”

            Hannibal broke Alana’s gaze and turned to look at Will.  Beneath his calm façade Will saw him in turmoil.  Saw him in fear.  This was it: the moment when they learned whether Hannibal ever had a chance at becoming free.

            He turned to his oldest friend, took a long breath, and spoke.

            “You are correct that it has to do with Will.  Meeting him has reminded me that I am alive, Alana.  Reconnected me with _my_ magic; the magic of Winter.  Reminded me that I am in pain, and incomplete, because I remain separated from it.  I long to return to it.”

            She nodded slowly, understanding so far.  She looked at Will.

            “And what happens to you, then?”

            “Then we could consummate.” Will said.  “If Hannibal was free.”

            She sat back in her chair for a moment and frowned. 

            “If he was free?” she asked.  “What do you mean…oh.”

            Will watched the realization dawn upon Alana’s face in slow motion.  First she looked pained as she realized that Hannibal had no _choice_ about living with the elves.  Then she looked angry, and then finally, afraid.

            “You’ve already asked Santa for your freedom, Hannibal, haven’t you?”

            “Many times.” Hannibal replied.  “All admittedly a long time ago; I have ceased asking.”

            “Because he always said no.” she said, leaning forward to wrap her hands around her teacup.  “He doesn’t trust you.”

            “Should he?” Margot asked.  Alana turned to her with a fierce expression.

            “Yes.” she said.  “Hannibal has _always_ kept his word.  There is not a promise he has made that he hasn’t followed through on.”

            Will’s heart began to beat harder as he realized that Alana was sympathizing with them.  There was hope after all.  Their plan might actually…work.

            She turned to look at Will, her blue eyes burning into his face as intensely as they had the night he’d met her.

            “And you’re okay with this?” she asked.  “Becoming as he is?”

            “Yes.” Will said, curling his fingers tighter around Hannibal’s hand.  “I have no doubts.”

            Alana nodded, her eyes falling to where their hands clasped, and he saw her understanding there.

            “Then how do you plan to do this?” she asked.  “Santa will know the moment you step outside Christmas.”

            Hannibal closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, taking his time before revealing the last part of their plan.  The hardest piece to swallow.

            He opened his eyes, and for a brief moment, Will saw the stars within them shine brightly.

            “We intend to kill Santa Claus.” he said.  “Then I will become unbound.”

            Margot gasped out loud, her hand flying to cover her mouth.  Alana gave him a steely stare, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

            “Surely there is another way.” she said.  “What you say can’t even be done.”

            “It can be done.” Hannibal said.  “And there is not.  The deal is with him, and he will not release it.”

            “You can’t do that.” Margot said.  “What would happen to Christmas?”

            “It would be just fine, as your wife knows.” Hannibal said.  “And believe me, I do care what happens to Christmas.  Which is precisely why I am here.”

            Alana was sitting far back in her seat now, looking repulsed—but she was still listening.

            “If I cared nothing for Christmas, I would simply kill Santa and take my Will into the Winter, disappearing never to be seen by you again.  Or we would lose, and both be killed by him.” Hannibal said.  “Either way, very simple.  No reason to involve you at all.”

            She nodded slowly with narrowed eyes.

            “You’re here only to give me a warning.  You’re not here to ask for my allegiance or assistance, because you need neither.  You’re only hoping that if I’m warned, if I know ahead of time that this will happen, that I will be ready to gather the Christmas magic to myself before anyone else can.”

            “Precisely.” Hannibal said.  “And…if that were to occur, if it were possible, I would like Will and I to still be welcomed here.  My fondness for you, and all the elves, is no lie, Alana.  This is my home and has been for half my life.  I would not want to lose it.  I merely want my freedom.”

            Alana’s eyes glazed over and she stared at the table.  All of this information was bordering on too much, and no one was surprised by her next statement.

            “I need to think about this.  For a while.” she said.

            “Of course.  I would expect no less.” Hannibal said.  He rose to his feet and Will stood with him.  “We shall leave you to contemplate every avenue of possibilities.  Should you wish to speak to me, you know where I live.” Hannibal said.  “I will not act until I hear from you, or my hand is forced.” Hannibal said.  He walked towards the door, and Alana did not rise to see them out, her hand clutching Margot’s tightly.  Hannibal reached down to place a palm on her shoulder, and she turned her face to look up at him.

            “Whatever happens, you are still my dearest and longest friend, Hannibal.” she said.  He gave her shoulder a squeeze and then led Will out into the snow, the door to their house closing softly behind them, the fate of Hannibal’s freedom and of Christmas itself hidden behind it.


	18. Chapter 18

         The village was still bustling, though quieter than it was at rush hour.  Plenty of elves were still about, hurrying to finish whatever they needed to get done before the next work day began.  Nobody paid Will and Hannibal much mind, other than to give a quick smile in their direction. 

         The mood still changed, as it always did, when they made the turn out of town and down the long, narrow path that led to their house.  Will breathed a sigh of relief at the quiet.  He understood Hannibal’s desire to live away from the elves; spending all day with them was enough, and after that, he needed a rest.

         He found himself staring at Hannibal’s back as they walked, his eyes drifting down to his feet, hoping that one of them would slip and step outside the light, just for a moment.  They reached a bend in the path where neither the light of the village nor of their house reached them, and there was darkness except for the string of lights that lined either side of the path.  Will suddenly could not bear the thought of not seeing Hannibal for a moment longer, and he reached out his hand to grab Hannibal’s arm.

         He stopped and turned, curious as he raised an eyebrow in question.  Will stepped forward until their chests brushed together, his eyes staring into Hannibal’s, searching for his stars.

         “Will?”  Hannibal asked, his voice slightly less sure than usual. 

         “I’m trying to see you.” Will said softly.  He squinted, and stared, and there they were; the faint glow of speckled white, deep within Hannibal’s eyes, hidden by the lights.

         “There you are.” he whispered.  He tilted his lips up and Hannibal met them, their kiss warm and lingering in the silence of their private path.  Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will and pulled him close, the warmth of him spreading along Will’s skin to make it tingle. 

         Will pulled back, letting his lips linger just a little too long, so that Hannibal’s fingers tightened in the fabric of his tunic.

         “Will.”  he said, his breath thicker.

         What Will wanted to say next was not safe to speak out in the open.  He slid his hand down Hannibal’s arm and intertwined their fingers, leading Hannibal towards their house with a flirtatious glance, until they were safely inside their kitchen.

         The moment the door was closed Will was on him, pressing a rough, needy kiss to Hannibal’s lips, and Hannibal moaned softly into his mouth.  His hands wandered to Will’s back and pulled him close, their bodies pressing tightly together so that when Will pulled away, Hannibal’s breath still washed over his face with each exhale.

         “I saw snatches of you the night we decorated our Christmas tree.” Will said.  “But other than that, I’ve only seen you once.  It isn’t right and it isn’t enough.”

         He saw the sadness in Hannibal’s eyes.  Saw the frustration as his eyebrows knitted together.  He lifted a hand to Will’s face and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.

         “What are you proposing?” Hannibal asked.  “I took a great risk showing you myself the first time.  It was mere luck that Santa did not notice.  Now that he is watching us more closely, I dare not go near the line.”

         Will lay his head on Hannibal’s shoulder and traced his fingers down the front of Hannibal’s tunic.  “You said our house is protected from his sight.”

         “Yes, it is.”

         “And the only thing that hides you is the light.”

         “Correct.”

         Will tilted his head up and saw nothing but normal irises.  The faint stars he could see on the path were now entirely washed out, and he was done with it.  He needed to see Hannibal fully.  He needed to _know_ him.

         “What if we put the fire out?” he said softly.  “Turn off all the Christmas lights in our bedroom?  Make it as dark as night inside.”

         “You’d freeze.”

         “I’m not saying to keep the fire out all night.  Just for an hour or two.  The house will still be warm enough…”

         “No, Will.  You will freeze.  I am as cold as the Winter, even if Christmas keeps my magic from me.  You will not change, if that is what you are after.  I have very little power here.”

         Will looked up and saw the pain on Hannibal’s face.  He wanted this.  Badly.  Will reached up a hand and touched his face. 

         “That is not what I am after.” he said softly, leaning forward, pressing gentle kisses to Hannibal’s cheek.  “I want to _see_ you.  I want to feel you, to taste you.  _You_.  And if Christmas is too powerful here to keep you from changing me, then it is also strong enough to keep me warm. When I touched you last, in the pine forest, I could feel that you were cold, but _I_ wasn’t cold.  I’ll be fine.”

         “But it will not be _pleasant_ for you…”

         “I’ll be the judge of what is pleasant for me.” Will murmured, leaning in to press kisses slowly down Hannibal’s neck, letting his tongue dart out to lick at his skin.  When he reached the place where he knew Hannibal liked to be sucked he sealed his lips and pulled the skin into his mouth.  Hannibal gave a long, deep groan, and Will felt the lump under his tunic grow.  He slid his hand down Hannibal’s thigh and then up under his tunic, his fingers teasing over his tights until he reached his swelling length.  He rubbed it with his palm to encourage it and Hannibal groaned, leaning forward into him, his fingers curling tightly into the cloth of Will’s tunic.

         “You take away all my willpower.” Hannibal whispered.  Will moved his lips up to Hannibal’s ear and whispered back,

         “Good.”

         With a growl Hannibal swept Will up into his arms and stormed to the bedroom door, slamming it open so that it hit the wall with a thud.  Will gave a flirtatious smile as he was tossed to the bed, then moaned as Hannibal’s lips found his neck and his fingers sought his belt.  It was open and whipped out from under him in seconds, and he lifted his hands so that Hannibal could yank his tunic quickly over his head.

         They hurriedly undressed, and then Hannibal was back on top of him, his naked, warm body crushing him to the bed.  Soft, and warm, and brown.

         Hannibal dragged his lips down Will’s chest, seeking towards his nipple, which he knew would turn Will’s mind to butter.  Will’s hands sought his hair and grabbed it, yanking his head away.

         “No.” he said.  Hannibal’s eyes met his with a hard stare, his breath panting heavily through his lips.  “I need to _see_ you.” Will said.

         “I will hurt you.”

         “I’ll live.”

         Hannibal fiercely crushed his lips to Will’s, devouring him for a few heated seconds before he rose and stood in the center of their bedroom.  His eyes bored into Will’s as he walked to the window, pulled back the curtain, and pushed the glass open.

         A frigid blast of air whooshed into the room, bringing swirling snowflakes with it.  It wasn’t a draught, but a directed gust that went straight for the fire, swirled around it, and blew it out.  The snow settled on top of it, cooling the cinders, until Will could hear the crackling of ice forming on the logs, freezing what had been hot only seconds ago.

         The sound of the window being pulled shut brought his eyes back to Hannibal.  The room was now lit only by the Christmas tree and the string of lights that encircled the ceiling.  Without moving, Hannibal reached up to the string above the window and tugged on it.  Will heard it snap, saw a bright flash, and then everything was dark.

         Pitch dark.  He could not see anything.  By instinct his eyes searched the room, seeking out any light at all, but there was none.  The light from the kitchen fire did not creep under Hannibal’s perfectly-fitted bedroom door.  The curtain blocked the starlight.  There wasn’t a single ember on the fire.  There was nothing.

         “Hannibal?” he called out, sitting up, listening with perked ears. 

         “I am here.” he said, with the deep, low rumbling voice that Will had heard only once before.  His heart raced at the sound.  He reached out his arms towards the voice.

         “Hannibal, come to me.”

         He heard the sound of deadly claws clicking across the wooden floor.  It reminded him of the night they met; that was the last time Will had heard Hannibal walk within a house.  The vision of him devouring his father flashed into his head, but then he felt a frozen touch to his bare shoulder, and his memories shattered as his mind focused on the present.

         A large hand with sharp claws curled around his shoulder, and Will could tell that it was cold- but no bumps rose on his skin.  The magic was indeed keeping him warm.

         “I’m fine.” he reassured.  “Touch me, Hannibal.”

         When Hannibal didn’t move, Will reached out his hands until he felt a hard, frozen chest that he knew was as black as the night.  He spread his palms across it, feeling the smoothness of Hannibal’s skin.  He felt an icy palm press to his cheek and he tilted into it, not caring about the deadly sharp claws that scratched his skin.  Will turned and pressed his lips to Hannibal’s palm, his hands exploring his body, roaming over his perfectly smooth chest, then up to his neck.

         Will wrapped his arms around it and pulled Hannibal to him.  He came, the bed dipping where his knees straddled Will.  Will raised his legs and felt Hannibal’s thighs, much longer than his, powerful, hard, and frigid cold.

         “Hannibal.” Will whispered.  “Open your eyes.  Let me see.”

         Two brilliant white, shining lights appeared in Will’s vision.  His eyes hurt for a few seconds until they adjusted and then the whiteness focused, becoming instead hundreds of tiny white specks; two pools of them, swirling like the winter snow.  Will’s mouth fell open at the beauty of them and lifted his lips to Hannibal’s mouth, where he was greeted with an eager kiss.

         “You’re as beautiful as I remember.” Will whispered. 

         “ _Will_.” Hannibal whispered, his voice in awe.  He had no lips to kiss with, so he left little affectionate licks across Will’s mouth, his tongue tasting him as Will relaxed in his arms. 

          Hannibal moved his tongue down Will’s chin and then along his neck.  His tongue was as cold as the rest of him, but was soft and wet.  It left a frozen trail as it licked down Will’s skin, which then melted as Will’s body warmed it.  He shivered as two clawed hands raked down his sides, no doubt leaving shallow scrapes, but he felt no pain because of the cold.  Hannibal’s eyes left a faint luminescence on his skin, so that he could almost see the outline of himself as Hannibal dragged his tongue down his body. 

         Will arched his back when he licked at a nipple, it becoming instantly hard from the chill.  Will’s hands moved to the back of Hannibal’s head, stroking his cold, hairless skin, feeling for his ears.  When he found them he teased behind them, and a pleased rumble rose up from Hannibal’s chest.  Will smiled.

         “You are still my lover.” Will said, his skin tingling everywhere Hannibal touched him, not from the cold, but from his excitement.  “I know you.”

         Hannibal’s eyes flashed up to gaze into his face as he continued to slide his tongue down Will’s body.  He eagerly spread his legs, his cock now hard from lust, protected from the cold like the rest of him.  When Hannibal’s tongue touched the tip of it he still yelped, and heard a gentle snort before Hannibal’s tongue was wrapped around him. 

         It was a strange sensation; knowing that what he felt was cold, yet not being affected by it.  He had no words to describe it and then stopped trying as a long, deft tongue wrapped itself around his length and squeezed.  Will groaned and melted into the mattress, the heat of lust overriding the chill from Hannibal’s mouth.  He lifted his hips to buck forward, and then two hard, clawed hands pressed themselves down on his hips.

         The tongue left him, and he grunted with protest.

         “My teeth are extremely sharp.” Hannibal said.  “Stay still.”

         Will nodded, only half caring, groaning as Hannibal’s tongue wrapped around him again.  He instinctively tried to buck his hips, but Hannibal held him down now, and in just his hands Will could feel the power of his muscles.  Will would not be moving anywhere Hannibal did not want him to. 

         Hannibal’s tongue wrapped around the head and the tip teased his slit.  He gave a long, deep moan, heat blooming through his body, enough to make him rock-hard but not enough to get him off.  Hannibal’s saliva dripped down his cock in sluggish rivers, half-frozen, half-melted by the heat of Will’s skin.

         Then Will slid his hands up further, to the top of Hannibal’s head, searching.  He felt the hardness of his antlers and traced his hands up them, feeling them, learning them.  They were not identical; they branched in different places, and Will tried to map a picture of them in his mind as he felt along each branch.

         Hannibal’s tongue left his cock and slid down over his balls.  His powerful hands pushed Will’s legs open and then the chill licked between his cheeks.  He jumped at first from the unfamiliar sensation, expecting to feel cold, and instead feeling…Hannibal. 

         His tongue teased Will in circles and then began to lap, exactly as he always did. Will moaned, the motions familiar, the touches of the lover he knew.  His hands tightened around Hannibal’s antlers, making the gesture of holding him in place, though it was only a gesture with how strong Hannibal was.  Hannibal moaned from it, his deep voice rumbling through Will’s body. 

         Hannibal’s tongue pierced into him, the muscle far stronger than his elf equivalent, pushing farther into Will than he’d expected.  He cried out from surprise and then groaned as the pleasure followed, spreading his legs wider and canting his hips upward towards that tongue.  Drool slowly dripped from Hannibal, both freezing and melting at once, though inside Will it was only wet from the heat of his body.

         He felt a large, smooth hand wrap around his wrist and tug.  He didn’t understand, but he let go of Hannibal’s antler, allowing his hand to be moved as Hannibal pleased.  He moved it between Will’s legs and pressed Will’s fingers beside his tongue.  It was then Will understood.  Hannibal had no fingers; only deadly claws.  With a blush of shyness Will pushed his own finger into himself, alongside Hannibal’s tongue, the wetness of it slicking him like a dripping icicle. 

         Lust overrode his hesitation, and together they worked Will open, Hannibal’s tongue providing wetness, Will’s fingers providing width.  He curled his stomach and sat up to reach better, his other hand holding tightly to Hannibal’s antler, until he was able to stroke his own prostate.  He trembled from how good it felt, his lips seeking Hannibal, finding the top of his head.  He kissed it, over and over, until his abdomen wore out and he collapsed back onto the bed, spread open and ready.

         Hannibal rose from between his legs, his bright eyes shining down on Will’s body, making his skin glow pale against the sheets.  In the darkness they were all Will could see, and he imagined what it must look like to be Hannibal’s prey, having this be the last thing he saw.  It was terrifying and beautiful.  He wanted nothing else.

         “Beautiful.” Hannibal said, his rumbling voice as deep as the wind.  Will felt his body cover him, felt the coldness of him, the hard muscle of his black skin pressing down on every part of him.  Hannibal’s mouth came to his neck and his tongue licked at it, his powerful thighs pushing up under Will’s knees, spreading his legs open further.

         What he felt press against his ass was cold and hard, and his instincts made him yelp and try to pull back.  Hannibal snarled and his claws wrapped around Will’s wrists, pinning him to the bed.  Will looked up into those brilliant eyes and met the gaze of the growling beast, unafraid. 

         Hannibal blinked and pulled back, loosening his grip.

         “Will, I…it was a reflex…”

         “Come back.” Will said.  “So was mine.  Hold me tight.”

         Hannibal returned, his claws tightening around his wrists again, his body holding Will down.  When next he felt the cold, cold hardness, he jerked, but went nowhere as Hannibal kept him pinned.

         “Are you certain…”

         “ _Yes_.” Will said, lifting his face towards those beautiful eyes, pressing his lips to that deadly mouth.  Hannibal leaned into the kiss, pushing Will’s head down into the mattress, his tongue flicking over his lips.  Will opened to let him in, and when he did he felt Hannibal push into him at his other end, cold and hard and unforgiving.

         It didn’t hurt, but it was strange.  Will felt himself stretched open, partially numbed by the cold, yet also protected from it by the magic.  Hannibal, however, let out a long, deep groan, his body molding to Will’s, the coldness of him pressing along Will’s chest and stomach and legs all at once, so that he gave a sharp inhale.  Again he instinctively tried to pull away, only to find himself unable to budge.  The feeling only made him flush harder, his eyes fluttering as he felt Hannibal’s frozen cock pushing slowly into him.

         “Will…” he breathed, and Will found his mouth again, pressing kisses to it, letting his tongue emerge to dart over the skin where lips would be. Hannibal started to move, slowly pulling out to press back in a bit further each time.  Will groaned at being spread open, even as strange as it felt.  There was no flexibility to Hannibal’s cock at all; it pushed Will’s body the way it wanted, cold yet alive. 

         Hannibal kept Will close to him, his hands sliding down Will’s arms to wrap tightly around his back, so that their bodies pressed together.  When Hannibal’s back curved as he pulled out, his arms arched Will’s stomach to match.  When he pushed back in he flattened them both to the bed, and Will found his hands seeking Hannibal’s body, stroking over his back, his shoulders, his arms.  Learning him, feeling him. 

         Then Hannibal thrust.  Will cried out as pleasure sprang up his nerves as his prostate felt it.  Hannibal didn’t hesitate but pulled back and thrust again, and Will’s arms wrapped tightly around his back, each of them holding the other while sparks of desire sprang through Will’s body.  It was like when Hannibal fucked him with his fingers; as hard and unforgiving as they were, but so much deeper and wider.  As heat from his body flushed between his legs the numbness melted and he felt it all, Hannibal driving into him with powerful force, his muscles quivering as he struggled to maintain control.

         The pants from Hannibal’s mouth turned from grunts to low growls, then to deep, long snarls.  He opened his mouth, his sharp teeth pressing against Will’s neck as he increased his speed, his groans loud and wanton.  Heat flushed through Will’s body at the sounds, his cock flushed hard, his ass burning with lust even as he was filled with cold.

         Hannibal pushed himself up with his hands, his palms spreading across Will’s chest, the bed beginning to rock from the force of his thrusts.  Will’s hands reached up for him, finding his antlers, and wrapped around them, pulling Hannibal to himself as their bodies moved together, both working hard to be close, to be one.  Will’s eyes rolled back in his head as his erection throbbed with need, the pounding of Hannibal’s frozen cock bringing him just to the edge but not over it, keeping him in a state of heightened lust without release.

         Hannibal’s cock pounded into him with unforgiving hardness and power.  Will’s body was the only thing pliant, being spread open with every thrust until Hannibal was fucking him as he pleased, hard, fast thrusts making Will’s body sing as he allowed what felt like an icicle into his body.  Hannibal’s voice was nothing but deep growls and snarls, words lost to him, and Will answered him with lustful groans as he felt himself filled with Winter itself.

         Then Hannibal gave a loud, shrill cry; the voice of a monster in the throes of ecstasy. 

         “Yes, Hannibal!” Will cried, feeling frigid release spill into his body, shivering despite the magic that protected him. Hannibal curled his claws and they raked across Will’s chest, lines of blood springing to the surface of his skin.  Everything went dark as Hannibal closed his eyes, and Will pulled him near, his fingers wrapped tightly around his antlers, his heart pounding.

         Hannibal collapsed on top of him, his deep, rumbling breaths vibrating through Will’s chest.  Before he could speak, Hannibal’s claws wrapped around his wrist and yanked his hand from his antlers, where they had been clutched tight.  He drew Will’s hand to his own cock and Will didn’t argue, desperate for release after what he’d just felt.  He stroked himself fast and hard, desire bubbling up from his balls, singing through him from where the coldness of Hannibal still remained buried inside him.  With a cry he shuddered, pulses of heat and pleasure springing through him in waves as he spilled over his hand and onto their stomachs.

         Hannibal wrapped him tightly in his arms and Will curled into him, exhausted, his skin starting to form bumps from the chill he felt.

         Hannibal pulled out of him and Will cried out at the loss.

         “No, stay…” he said, his teeth chattering, the coldness in the core of his body still there. 

         “I must get you warm.” Hannibal said.  Will felt him move away, then heard his clawed feet as he stood on the wooden floor.  He felt his powerful, monstrous arms slide under him and lift him effortlessly from the bed.  He walked towards the door and opened it, and the light from the kitchen fire blinded Will’s eyes.  He shrank away and buried his face in Hannibal’s chest, but it was warm, and soft, and brown.

         “No…” Will said, a soft sob escaping his lips.  “No.”

         “Shhh.  I am still here.” Hannibal said, gently laying Will on the rug in front of the fire. “I’ll return in less than a moment.”

         He left, and Will stared at the flames, the warmth of them unpleasant and not at all what he wanted.  Instead he focused on the cold still within him, a brilliant spot of Winter, spreading throughout his body, Hannibal near him, Hannibal in him.

         Hannibal returned with a blanket and draped it over Will, sliding under it himself, curling their naked, warm bodies together.  Hannibal’s soft arms pulled Will close to his chest, and Will came to him, drawn by the pliant kisses on his cheek and gentle fingers stroking over his chest.

         He hissed when they brushed over the scratches, and Hannibal pulled his fingers into the light to look at the wet redness on them with a frown.

         “I’ve hurt you.”

         “Good.” Will said, his own fingers moving up to gently brush over the scratch marks on his chest.  “It will remind me that you were real.  That I had you.”

         “Oh, Will.” Hannibal said, nuzzling his face into his hair, planting gentle kisses to his temple and cheek.  As they lay in front of the fire Will’s shivers slowly abated, though the coldness in his core remained, and he focused on it until the warmth caught up to him and he slept, the arms of his lover wrapped tightly around him.


End file.
